#just thoughts im having while continuing my reread

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

sooo reading some metas and its got me thinking about zzs and his (diminished) power levels, and how that comes between him and giving wkx a good smacking. leaving the theory aside that zzs is likely oftentimes playing his anger up or faking it entirely, as a justification for giving wkx so much leeway and having him around (the excuse being: "i dont WANT him around i am SUFFERING his presence! what can i do! im a lot weaker!"), and also leaving aside my theories why he doesnt give in to inciting a physical spar most of the time even once even though he very much wants to, im wondering at how difficult it must be for zzs to be so reminded of his own diminished strength practically all the time. i mean, here is wkx who he would have a lot of fun meeting in a fight and whom he might not be able to win against if he were at his original level. and wkx is forceful, he is overbearing, he is plastering himself all over zzs, and he sees zzs and doesnt look away. it must be difficult, to be so very aware of your own physical weakness, of your own physical and martial inferiority if you are a martial arts nut like zzs and if youre struggling with showing weakness and vulnerability like zzs, who would spring through hoops and make multiple mental gymnastics in succession just to not appear weak to his own inner voice.

[eyeballs-in-my-head]

Do you guys wanna see me go insane? I can do that. Only if you want to tho, I don't want to inconvenience anyone haha

[saintobio]

Hi saint! God you have no idea how much I wanted to go home after seeing you updated. You’re basically the only one with notifs on bc I cant, CANT, miss an update from my fave fic of all time (fears for my life bc you said it doesnt get better til chapter 14)

Anyway, this is not really a theory, but im curious as to what transpired between mc and toru the morning after their confrontation. Why did gojo leave? Did they fight? Did mc force him to leave to go to akemi to lessen her feelings of guilt?

Anyway, why do i have a feeling that akemi could, COULD, be 🤰? bc if my memory is correct, I recalled one scene where they woohooed with akemi saying she wanted no protection on? And since i do work on a medical field, it is possible for cramps when implantation happens (mc will have the heart attack of her lifetime istg). Although it could also be bc of her condition bc it wasnt really really explicitly stated in one chapter they woohooed without protection on (my memory is foggy bc i never reread chapters where they woohooed. I feel mc’s pain 🥲🥲) but why do i also have a feeling mc could be pregnant too

👁️👄👁️ bc they did have sachiro after woohooing in the first few chapters of SN (theyre both so fertile skdhjssk). Also, I feel like mc’s heart condition is coming back :((( after chapter 10 where she was pounding her heart to stop the pain, I can only imagine her angina waiting in the corner ;((

There’s only a few remaining chapters left (💔) but theres still so much drama and tension left unresolved (Gem still doesnt know they 👉🏽👌🏽) I thank you from the bottom of my heart that you continuously grace us with your writing. There are only a few fics that really made me feel the pain and surely your writing will always be at the top of a godtier list when it comes to giving heavy angst (i can only hope they have a HEA and have a new kid bc i really wanna see satoru redeem himself as a father 🥲🥲) I will surely miss this series when it ends and I will surely reread this when I am feeling the blues and just want to cry. Your brain and hands work wonders and I hope people here would also learn that waiting for the next update is definitely worth it (please stop pressuring her for new updates :(( saint gives her entire heart writing this. The wait is so so worth it).

And before this ends I would like to ask mc and satoru what are their current thoughts are after their 😏 hot steamy confrontation (I WAS SO HAPPY THEY FCKED TBH) no pressure if they wont answer hehe. Thank you for giving us SN and SY, Saint! I will look forward to future fics from you. Sending you much love and I hope and pray that you get all your heart’s desire 💛💛💛💛

hello loveee!! those are really good questions and thank you so much for ur kind words 🥹 i recognize ur blog bc you’ve been a longtime reader of mine, so happy to still see u here <3 anyway, your theories:

1. the morning after, gojo and yn are already having an emotional exchange (kinda) thats why yn was already crying when akemi caught them!

2. what i can only say is akemi’s pelvic pain situation is there for a specific reason :)

3. their families (gen, momjo, etc) will be back soon, it’s total chaos

4. while doing it? they’re definitely going crazy for each other. next morning is all guilt !!

[baby-tini]

hi! it's me again 🤣 i just reread M4S and realized that reader manipulated them by stealing drugs to have them capture her

how do you think bonten!mikey will react to finding out that his darling is manipulative?

like she feel inlove with him when she first saw him so she purposely went to same clubs as him and made scenarios to make him interested in her 😜 like accidentally toppling over him acting as if she's drunk etc. mikey kidnaps her bc he feel for her and then finds out she did those intentionally

im so sorry if this is so specific 😭 english isn't my first language so i wasn't sure if i relayed my thoughts properly

thank you so much for writing! I LOVE LOVE LOVE EVERYTHING 💖💖💖

The first time that he saw you in one of the clubs that he owns, he thought you were the prettiest little thing he's ever laid eyes on, so, he had one of his executives bring you over to him, and there, you proceeded too stay sat with him on a luxurious couch for hours Sipping on the most expensive alcohol you've ever had the fortune of tasting as he talked business with his executives. He had kept one of his hands on your thighs he talked to the other man, his hand was cold but it was still pleasant too have on your skin. His hand was soft as he dragged it up and down your thigh, glancing at you so often. He had taken you back to an expensive hotel that night and fucked you, you're more then willing too say that it was the best sex of your life and you wouldn't even be lying. From then on though, you were obsessed with him, maybe it was the sex or just that raw authority that surrounded him but you were hooked, dangerously hooked and you needed him, he was like a drug and you were hooked- so far gone that you paid no mind too anything else that wasn't him.

The second time you saw him was far from coincidental as you continued too frequent that club that you met him in, even getting a job as a waitress at said club so that you'd have access to the VIP room and you were so excited when his eyes met your but he turned away as he continues too conversate with another man and you knew from there on what you had too do. Because.. if you made it look like fate and you were everywhere he was... would he always look at you then? You had too give it a try as you bribed one of his security guards for his schedule for the next month as you proceeded too show up everywhere he was, even going as far too frequent the pastry shop that he always got the dorayaki from, learning how too make it and even trying it yourself so that you had something in common.. even if it was a little too sweet for your tastebuds. He seemed too like the color red so that's what you were constantly seen in when you would go to that club, of course you wanted too get closer but you knew that'd be impossible with constant security and his second in command.. his loyal mad dog; Sanzu Haruchiyo. You really didn't like Sanzu, he'd always watch you, like he knew what you were upto, he was smart, you'd give him that. You ignored him nonetheless, you wanted too be with Manjiro Sano and you would, so you'd dance in the club, you knew he saw you, because your eyes would meet dark obsidian as you danced away in the loud club.

Making sure too sway with the music as you pretended not too notice how invasive the eyes of the most dangerous man in all of Japan could be. He'd approach you more often ever since you started your little plan, and it would always unfortunately end the same way; with sex. While you're not complaining about it, you wanted too be closer, too have him closer. So that's exactly what you put your mind too, more then focused on getting into Bonten, so you started getting involved with shady people that owed Bonten something, money, drugs.. their life, you didn't care, you just wanted in. So when you had successfully been kidnapped by default of being surrounded by people that Bonen wanted dead, you knew you were in. Especially when the man himself, Manjiro Sano, pulled the blindfold down and your eyes fluttered open too meet onyx ones, the empty look in his eyes had filled with recognition before he told his lackeys too untie you.

He had taken you in his office and you had cried to Mikeys, the tears were fake, but.. he didn't need too know that as you explained to him that you were in danger because people were after, your father drowning in debt and your only option was too surround yourself with people that could protect you and that's what you did. You saw his usually empty eyes soften as you spewed lie after lie to him, even going as far as too get on your knees and blabber out meaningless apologies, stating that if you knew just who those people, you would've never hung out with them. He had listened to you, watching as you put on a show, over-dramatizing and lying straight to his face. You hoped your performance was good enough and you knew it was when he nodded and made a phone call, it was too quiet for you too hear anything but you just continued your false sobbing, feeling his eyes burning into you as you just continued your show. You knew you had won though, when he put the phone down and had you come sit down at his desk and asked you too explain just what exactly happened and who your father was in debt with, deciding too give him the name of a gang that Bonten hated and you watched his eyes narrow in distaste as he promised you protection just until that gang was eradicated, you knew Mikey was only doing this out of spite of the other gang but you didn't care, you were confident that you could have him wrapped around your finger before that even came too fruition.

[sixosix]

END NOTE | THAWED

a little love letter to my readers

to start off, i know that the series is based off the entire reputation album, but i like to think that this whole series was written around call it what you want.

how it started LMFAOOO

This was previously titled ‘melt’ before i was like ‘nah ill make it, like, thaw” and earthtooz went, “Thawed?” little did earth know,, that name would literally take over my docs,,, my tags,,, my ENTIRE account

A message to my readers: From the bottomest bottom of my heart, if you have reached this series until the very end, thank you so, so much for reading. Read that sentence again. And again, until you realize how grateful I truly am as a writer. Thawed is such a big project that I still can’t believe I was able to even start. I genuinely never thought it would garner this much attention, and in all honestly, I was intimidated by it, because I had no idea what I was doing, and I was afraid I would disappoint.

This entire project was intimidating, and I considered so many times to just drop it and end it on chapter five. I struggled so badly to write after I introduced the characters, and I thought: “well, that’s it. I guess it was fun.” I even told my friends that I would do that; and yet 14 chapters later, look at where we are now 😭

Writing it was so exhausting. Working on a series while studying as a student really makes it difficult to remember details about my own story T__T I had to reread Thawed so many times to the point where I don’t even like it anymore.

But I know the reason why I decided to continue it! It sounds so horribly cliche, but it’s true. It’s thanks to all your overwhelming support :( Each ask, comment, reblog—they all fueled me more than you think. All those replies of even incoherent gibberish made me realize that, ‘hey, someone read it and liked it enough to send an ask about it. Maybe I am doing something right!!!!’

some thawed extras for readers who are interested

If you haven’t noticed, the chapter titles aren’t actually accurately about the chapter. Those titles were taken from the songs in the Reputation album, in order. And the chapters are loosely based around them!

reputation is, like, widely known as the edgy album from taylor, but in reality its such a big love letter and i know that other people noticed that, too! i think it’s very fitting to the story of thawed: it’s dark and messy, but at the end of the day, it’s a love story. do you get what i mean hehe. i hope that’s how the series came across…

im sorry if aether doesnt appear in the last chapter :( in my head, mc is coming home. and by then i dont think aether would be in fontaine at all! but rest assured they definitely have met up twice or thrice while in the other regions heehee. Also aether will ofc be there for their weeding. 🙏

i have nothing much else to say aside from thank you for reading! i hope u enjoyed thawed as much as i did

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Chatterbox (M, cold, 'drabble')

A little prompt-based fluff for you guys :) Reed and Greyson go out to dinner, but Reed realizes something is up when Greyson won't shut tf up lol. I'm loving writing this relationship, I can't lie, so sorry if it's too much Reed and Greyson lately - I'll get back to my other guys soon!

1.6K words (just a tiny lil blip of a story haha) CW: Male snz, coughing, fever, contagion mention. Hope you like it :)

Chatterbox

Reed looked down at his phone as he waited on Greyson, rereading the stream-of-consciousness texts his boyfriend had sent throughout the day.

Greyson

1:42PM

sooo pumped for tonight bb :)

1:56PM

should I wear a suit…? I know it’s a new spot but the website definitely reads ‘fine dining’, like fine-er than most of my clothes know how to be...

2:24PM

I think I’ll do dark jeans & a black button up. johnny cash style. cant go wrong w that. hahah.

3:17PM

I know ur working still but im just really excited to see you:):)

It was cute – borderline adorable – how nervous Greyson seemed for their dates, even after almost a year of the two of them being together. Reed had, of course, answered Greyson’s plethora texts throughout the day, but had tried to keep himself subdued so he wouldn’t give away his hand; tonight, he was going to ask Greyson to move in with him.

He knew it was a bit of a long time coming, but Reed was really trying to keep from scaring Greyson off by doing anything too quickly. His boyfriend certainly had a bit of past-relationship trauma that Reed tried valiantly to navigate; it was hard to figure out what the right time to do anything was. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right time to push their relationship to the next level. But things had been good lately; like, really good. Tonight felt… right.

Greyson’s presence was palpable before Reed even saw him blow through the door. He looked up from his phone and clocked his boyfriend, standing out side the restaurant with his elbow locked over his face; Reed cocked his head a bit, confused. Was he… coughing?

The chef, clad in the Johnny-Cash-getup he’d promised, shook himself out before pushing the door to the restaurant open. He pawed at his nose with the back of his hand while asking the hostess to point Reed out – she gestured towards their table, and Greyson smiled when the two of them locked eyes. Reed waved, smiling back. Something was certainly… off.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Greyson said, kissing the top of Reed’s head before sitting across from him. “The fuckin’ train was running late again.”

“I’ve told you a million times I’ll come pick you up for dates,” Reed said, squeezing Greyson’s hand across the table. “You don’t always have to take the train.”

Greyson shrugged, smiled a little loopily. “I like the train,” he said, picking up his menu and squinting at the small font. “Lots of time to think. I’ve come up with my best dishes on the subway, I’m pretty sure; you remember that tart I made for the writer’s dinner, the one where we saw each other for the second time? Came up with that on the train. I was sitting next to this girl, probably a student, and she was eating one of those little egg tarts, the ones from the Japanese bakeries? I thought, damn I bet a root vegetable in one of those would fuckin’ slay – spoiler alert, it so did. Where would I have come up with that if not for the train? Plus, it’s one of the most sustainable ways to travel. I get my good karma for not actively killing the environment in. Win-win. What’re we eat – HTSHH! NXTSHH!” Greyson’s explosion of word vomit was very suddenly cut off to stifle two painful-sounding sneezes into the back of his hand.

Reed blinked for what was maybe the first time since his boyfriend sat down. “...bless,” he said after a beat. Greyson nodded, sniffled a little, and picked the menu back up.

“What’s this place’s thing anyway?” Greyson continued, flipping the menu over to look at drinks. “I can’t seem to figure it out; are they Italian? Mediterranean? Fine dining? Just high-end? No tasting menu, but prices are high enough to warrant one. Wine list reads very Italian, but there are like three dishes with hummus on them? I’m half-expecting to be served babaganoush bolognese. Which… maybe would work? Actually, eggplant, tomato sauce… I could see it working. You never know. Can’t judge a book by its menu, right? What’re you drinking? Want to get a bot -?”

This second monologue was cut short when Reed reached across the table to place a gentle hand on Greyson’s face. Just as he expected: hot.

“Babe,” Reed said gently, taking his hand back, “you’re burning up.”

The chef cast his glance down, embarrassed. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out till after dinner,” he muttered. Reed laughed.

“Seriously? You had to know I’d figure something was up. You’ve been monologing since the moment you sat down. Have you been sick all day? You should’ve told me, honey. How much cough medicine did you take before you showed up here?”

Greyson looked up at Reed and gave him a little half-smile. “Pretty sure I downed half a bottle of Robutusssin, not gonna liiii – hh! HhNXTSHH-ue! Huh-TSHH-ue!” Once again, Greyson attempted to stifle, to no avail. He allowed himself two painful little coughs before righting himself again.

“Bless you,” Reed said again. “I wish you would just sneeze normal, that always sounds so painful.”

“We’re in a restaurant,” Greyson said, a huskiness beginning to creep in to his voice. “That’s so gross.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Who cares? No one’s looking at us. They’re too busy with their many, many hummuses.”

A laugh bubbled out of Greyson, and with it came a flurry of congested coughs he directed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t mbake me laugh,” he muttered, taking a drink of water. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Good,” Reed said, flagging the waiter. “I’m so sorry,” he said when the young, well-dressed server came to their table, “something’s come up and we’re going to have to go.” He handed the kid a fifty. “Thank you for your help.”

The server nodded, said thank you to Reed, and went to grab the two men’s jackets. Greyson raised an eyebrow, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking you home,” Reed said. “You need tea and soup, not…” he glanced back down at the menu, “fattoush flatbread.” Greyson visibly deflated.

“I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called and canceled, I just… I mbiss you when we don’t see each other all week. You’re always busy, I’mb always busy, it just fucking sucks. I don’t even know how I got fucking sick… oh wait, yes I do. Elijah had a cold last week – was that last week? Did I tell you that? I can’t remember. I think the servers gave it to him. Fuckin’ servers, I’ve never met a group of people who get sick mbore than theehh – huh! Fuck – HUHETSHHH-ue! Huh-! HhITSZZZCH-ue!” Greyson folded in half, his torso practically beneath the table in an attempt to keep the entire restaurant from hearing him. It was, of course, at that moment that the server returned with their coats. Reed took them silently, and stood to gather his boyfriend, who slowly unfurled himself from his own lap.

“Bless you,” he said, gently helping Greyson to his feet and slipping his coat over his shoulders. He lead the two of them past the host stand and onto the sidewalk, where he turned Greyson to face him.

“First of all,” he said, sweeping Greyson’s hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek, “I know a subset of people who get sick more than servers, and it’s chefs. You and all your chef buddies are pestilence incarnate because you work nine hundred hours a week.” This prompted a little laugh from Greyson. Perfect, thought Reed. Break the tension.

“Secondly, yes, you did tell me that Elijah was sick, and I told you, and I quote, ‘Don’t get too close, I know you two love to share a cold’, but I know you don’t like to listen to authority, so not sure what I expected.” Another laugh. Greyson pushed his hair back, rubbed his nose, and pulled Reed in to hug him. Reed continued from this spot, pressed into Greyson’s shoulder.

“And thirdly,” he said, “I miss you too. All the time. Which is why I asked you out tonight.” He pulled away, reached into his pocket, and dropped a key into Greyson’s palm. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want you to have to take the train from Brooklyn every single night, I don’t want us to hang out once a week, I don’t want to drop you at your apartment to take care of yourself. I want to see you when I wake up every morning. I want to hear you sneak in at three AM after you and Matt go clubbing. I want to take care of you, at home, when you’re sick.” Reed smiled, a little embarrassed, as Greyson stared at the key. “Move in with me,” Reed said. “Please.”

Greyson’s mouth opened, then shut without words a couple of times before he looked Reed in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”

Reed felt a smile bloom on his face, huge, goofy, unashamed. He took Greyson’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. Greyson held his boyfriend by the waist, then picked him up to spin him around. “I love you,” Greyson muttered into Reed’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Reed said, smiling. Greyson turned away then, suddenly to -

“HRRSHH-ue! HhhITSHZZCH-ue!” he sneezed away from his boyfriend, which prompted a laugh from Reed.

“Probably too late for that nicety,” Reed joked, elbowing Greyson playfully. The chef huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I figured sneezing directly into your face would probably kill the moment,” he said, sniffling. “But I’ll go ahead and just do it next time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Reed laughed, kissing Greyson again. “C’mon. Let’s get you home and in bed. Sickie.”

Greyson smiled a little. “Yeah,” he said, looping his arm into Reed’s. “Let’s go home.”

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: pony club (mini-series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, angst no comfort, previous abuse, domestic violence, curses and hexes, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, possession, mediums, ghosts, hauntings, horror, smoking, brothels, pubs, gambling, alcohol, cults, death/violence/torture, bucky barnes has issues, bucky barnes is a dick, police brutality, vaguely british setting??, sexism, classism, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 10.1k!!! oh my god someone help

A/N: god this has been on the go for awhile. it got so long but i have a worm in my brain that told me this had to happen before i can get onto the juicy stuff. next part will be a lot more bucky heavy im so sorry this didn't have much of him, needed to build up that loreeee. anyway i actually hate my writing in this, if i have to reread this one more time im gonna go crazy so i'm just gonna post it and go to bed lol!! sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

taglist: @nash-dara

main masterlist | series masterlist

To be lulled into the false security that you would never see Bucky Barnes again was a foolish thought. 

Two months passed rather uneventfully. The handsome payment Bucky left you after your favour to him was far beyond your normal rates. A mixture of the gangster having deep pockets and, you suspected, an indication that all that had unfolded was to be kept quiet. 

So you had done just that. Your mouth had been sown shut, an invisible thread keeping your lips bound. There were so few people left in your life anyway that you didn’t feel like spilling details of a sex-based ritual with the limited relatives you had left. You weren’t particularly fond of them regardless; most you had not seen in years. 

You embraced the winter months as they settled across the city of Blackstone. The fog would roll in thick and dense, the clouds lingering over the port as Sootstone was cast into days of hoarfrosts. Icicles as long as your forearm hung from buildings and lamp-posts and was salt scattered across the wooden docks, where slippage was the worst. The homeless gathered in crowds around the Smokestack district, leeching off the warmth the factories produced. The ice and frosts were never white, unlike the country estates or wealthy garden districts. Smoke and ash continued to pour into the skies, tainting everything with a layer of black grit. 

You would see the Smog Boys in the streets often. Teams of the lower-ranking, younger lads would roam in packs, dipping in and out of the alleys. Even dressed in black, you could not make them out through the fog when they intended to disappear. Maybe it had been your brush with Bucky, but you began to notice them everywhere. Lurking in the markets, smoking by the docks, or sauntering by the smokestack factories. A small, stiff, knowing nod would be bestowed upon you if your gaze locked with theirs or if you lingered too long. As if they knew who you were. As if they had been instructed to keep an eye out for you. 

You could never leave the Smog Boys once you were inside. Whether you liked it or not, your fates were inextricably linked. You never knew when you might be needed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find one in your home. It is what you ought to have expected by now. It was only a matter of time before they came calling. 

You could only find one word to describe the woman in your kitchen. Beautiful. Beautiful in a hauntingly, terrifying way. She was stylish, with a blouse tucked into tailored, high-waisted suit pants. A lavish fur coat was draped over her shoulders, and her red hair was in a fashionable, blunt bob. Her lips, painted a deep red, were curved into a disgusted sneer as she assessed your residence. 

She had to be with Bucky because only a Smog Boy could illicit such an aura. 

“You should invest in better locks.” The redhead comments with a sniff. You haven’t even had a chance to process her presence; instead, you are standing with your lips parted in shock. “It wouldn’t be hard to rob you… or worse.”

You’re unsure if that was a thinly veiled threat or genuine advice. 

“Most don’t make habit of breakin’ into witches' homes.” You mutter, regaining your composure. You whip your headscarf off, abandoning it on your dining table. “They’re scared of being cursed.”

Your fingers unknot the woollen scarf around your neck now, tugging it free with a flutter of ash. The woman arches a well-manicured brow at you, looking you up and down. She doesn’t try to hide her judgement. She didn’t seem the type of woman to shy away from stating her opinion. Your clothing was noticeably different from hers, which was made of luxurious fabrics. The Smog Boys were well known for their finer suits—just because they lived and worked in the slums didn’t mean they dressed for it. Bucky seemed to like to keep certain appearances and had the funds to do so. You, however, were dressed for practicality. Heavy, cheap textiles that kept in the warmth. 

“Cursed.” The woman states, tone sharp. “You don’t seem the type to throw curses. You’re too… sweet.”

You don’t miss the condescending nature of how her sharp lips curve into a smile. You shoulder the insult. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Natasha. Romanoff.” The name was vaguely familiar to you. She was definitely one of Bucky’s inner circle. Possibly she worked closer to the shadows—a brain rather than brawn like Steve and Sam. “Barne is in need of your particular set of skills again.”

You pause, your fingers frozen over the pin in your mantle. Again? You knew to expect this, but still, you felt your heart uptick a beat. So soon? The question of which skills hung heavy in the air. Your abnormal skill to summon and banish spirits? To break curses and sense the otherworldly? Or to get your brains fucked out by Sootstone’s most notorious gangster? 

From the way Natasha was eyeing you, it seemed she knew all about your little sex ritual. 

“What if I’m unavailable?” You test hesitantly. 

The redhead isn’t amused. “It wasn’t a request.”

You nod slowly, hands falling to your sides. One should know when not to test Bucky Barnes or his men; it always ended rather unfavourably. Plus, you didn’t want to wake up tomorrow to find your kitchen filled with any more gangsters. 

Maybe Natasha was right about the locks.

—

Bucky and a pack of his dogs congregated in the streets outside the pub known as The Anchor. The establishment sat across from the docks, with tinted, lattice windows facing the port. On a clear day, one who sat in the window booths might be able to see the ocean. Though, throughout your life, you could recall about as many clear days as the fingers on your right hand. The Anchor had been in the Barnes family for years, originally bought by Bucky’s father when the Smog Boys first rose to infamy. 

The building was well cared for, a luxury not many of the surrounding establishments were familiar with. The building was decorated in a nautical style, with netting and flags adorning the walls and rafters. Fish and ships were painted onto the siding, with gold and blue accenting the furniture inside. Even the sign out front was a small, steel anchor engraved with the pub's name. 

The Anchor was mainly stocked with whiskey, which the Smog Boys ran an underground distillery for. They offered other spirits, wines, and ales, but the main vice of The Warrens was whiskey. Bucky had several underground or even legal businesses dotted throughout Sootstone, including gambling dens and brothels. You knew he made his office in a gambling den not too far from The Anchor—the dock-side streets were prime spots for high traffic from the sailors and dockworkers coming and going like the tide. 

As you and Natasha approached, the pack of adolescent gangsters surrounding Bucky scattered, disappearing into the thick fog and alleyways like wraiths. 

“Your witch, as requested,” Natasha announces with a sigh, her brows arched. Bucky glances at you, acknowledging you with little more than a grunt. He takes the last drag from his cigarette before crunching it beneath his shoe. 

“Thank you, Nat.” Bucky replies, smoke escaping his lips as he speaks. “Sam’s lookin’ for you inside.” 

Natasha doesn’t offer you a farewell as she pulls her coat tighter around her lean body and ducks inside the pub with a tsk. You and Bucky are left in an odd silence, with only the faint call of seagulls and the lapping of waves joining you. You had never seen the dockside street so quiet, but you could confidently assume his presence was responsible. 

“I trust Nat didn’t scare you too bad.” The gangster breaks the silence. His dark eyes wander across your frame, seemingly disappointed that you were thoroughly covered to prevent the cold from seeping in. “Would’ve come to get you myself, but I had some business to attend to.”

In retrospect, the thought of encountering Natasha in your kitchen again seemed more daunting than Bucky. You weren’t too sure how to interpret her malice and cool charm. She did give off the impression that she would kill you if you even breathed in her direction. As for Bucky, maybe he would kill you, but given his reputation, he was far more likely to fuck you up against the nearest available surface. 

“She said you've a job for me?” You ask, watching as the gangster tucks his large, bruised hands into his pockets. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Walk with me.”

You obey wordlessly.

Bucky navigates the streets with ease, ducking through alleys and blindly striding into the fog with unquestionable confidence. The few people you encounter in the winding streets dart out of the way, mumbling apologies and casting their gazes down as they stumble over their own feet. Your breath comes in clouds as you exhale, salt and ice crunching beneath your feet as you keep pace with him. 

“There’s an establishment I own, it’s been losin’ business these past months. The girls reckon it’s cursed. Or haunted.” He elaborates, and you frown. 

“You think a spirit’s attached?” You ask, and the gangster huffs out a short, bitter laugh. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know. I don’t have a sense for that stuff.” His lips are set in a line as he casts his sight down at you. “That’s your job, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t help but gulp and hope that his issue was indeed a spirit. One did not want to disappoint the gangster out of fear of the consequences. Your mind drifted back to months ago, to when he sat in your kitchen with that cursed necklace. He hadn’t noticed that curse—not until his sister apparently spelt it out for him. You couldn’t imagine carrying that thing around when it had reeked so badly that you tasted rot. 

“What about your sister?” You suddenly interrupt.

Bucky gives you an incredulous look. “Becca? What about her?” 

“You said she has a sense—”

“You think I’m lettin’ my sister near a brothel?” He snaps over you. His body turns to face you as you are both left motionless in the empty, ashy street. 

“Oh— I didn’t realise it was… You just said— I just assumed—” Your cheeks grow pink—this time not from the cold—as you stumble over your words. Flakes of ash slowly amble down from the sky, twirling in your mingled breath as the gangster looms over you. Several emotions flicker over his face—insult, disbelief—before finally settling on an eerie amusement. 

“Shy ‘bout a brothel? You’re not far off bein’ a whore yourself, doll. You certainly let me fuck you like one.” He leans closer to you, the scent of tobacco fanning across your skin. You clamp your jaw shut, your cheeks growing hotter by the second. The gangster smirks at you with a wickedness that rivals the devil. 

—

The Pony Club was not creatively named, like most things in Sootstone. You were sure there was an innuendo about riding or mounting buried in its origin. The brothel was buried deep in the busy streets of the Smokestack District. The crowd of workers parted with hushed whispers as you, Bucky, and Steve approached the establishment. You had bumped into the other gangster during your walk, and he had thankfully filled the tense silence hanging between you and Bucky. 

The Pony Club was neatly tucked between two stores. Ice covered the tiled roof, and grey-stained icicles dripped melted water from the front balcony. The ash falling from the sky was thick in these parts. Street sweepers patrolled the roads like small armies, brooms in tow, ensuring the roads were clear for carriages, waggons, and those on foot. 

The three of you paused before the building. Your eyes swept over the painted sign, an illustration of a pony alongside the cursive lettering. The building looks well up-kept like many of the Smog Boy establishments; it put its neighbours to shame. You couldn’t help but notice how, despite its busy location, the building was eerily empty. It was as if its walls stood outside of time, cursed to live an existence outside of perceivable reality. 

There was a twinge in your gut, a knowing. 

Steve grimaces beside you, the gangster scowling as he tucks his hands deep into his pockets. At first, you think he is simply cold from the frigid fog sitting over the city, but only as he speaks do you realise he senses something more. “I hate this place.” He utters.

Bucky hasn’t reacted. He truly didn’t seem to have a sense for anything otherworldly. 

“How does it make you feel?” You pry. Steve blinks at you in surprise, as if he hadn’t realised he spoke aloud. It would be useful for you to know how a non-magical person might feel; it could also give you insight as to what haunted the halls of the brothel. 

“Doesn’t encourage me to put my cock in some bird, that’s for sure. Bad for business, ‘cause that’s the whole point.” Steve grumbles, and you swear Bucky rolls his eyes. “How does it make you feel?”

The two men look at you with curiosity as you consider your words. Terrible? Awful? Yes, you felt unnerved, but you were accustomed to spirits and hauntings. Most places in this city had ghosts, whether they were malevolent or just lost. You had become unnervingly comfortable with the creeping sensation that you were not alone. It was an entirely different feeling to curses—no, curses, they twisted your gut in wicked ways—hauntings you were at ease with. There was an odd familiarity to them, it sparked a warmth in your soul. 

“Best I not say.” You land on. It would be better not to mess with the egos of gangsters, especially if they were afraid of a little ghost. 

The two men follow you as you step into the building. The inside is lavish, with a large, grand set of stairs that lead up to the mezzanine. Draperies hung from the balcony railings, and plush furniture, and decorations were artfully placed around the foyer. Despite its luxuriant appearance, there was an isolation that clung to the bones of the building. It was as if dust hung in the air, floating undisturbed. Not a breeze could get through the thick walls, nor could a breath of life. A place that was supposed to be rowdy, a den of sin and pleasure… silenced. As if it were a mausoleum. 

The building and those inside were lost in time, caught between a past that did not exist and a future that had not yet come. 

The peace is interrupted by a thundering noise, then shrieking. “Mr. Barnes! Oh, Mr. Barnes! So nice of you to come visit us!”

A few curious observers watch from over the bannisters. Beautiful women with tired eyes, hair swept up and curled into coiffures, and revealing dresses that clung to their curves. You suddenly felt rather overdressed in your winter clothes. 

An older woman descended the stairs in a frenzy, grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes were lined heavily with kohl, a bright pink blush across her cheeks, and lipstick to match. Her blonde curls bounced around her smooth face, a few longer strands following the dip of her dress. The madame of the brothel. 

Your lips purse together, and Bucky lets out a quiet sigh. “Madame Voss.”

“I trust you are here about the ghost?” The madame asks. She is rather excitable, like a puppy or a young child. Even Steve has grown uncharacteristically quiet, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and dread. “I told my girls you would be back to help! I said you were a busy man, but not to worry. We’ve lost a few since you were last here, Rose, Amorie, and Vivinne… but that is nothin’ to worry about. They were traitorous at heart—”

“Yes, I quite understand.” Bucky snaps over Madame Voss. Steve tries to hide a snort, and the madame is left momentarily speechless. “I’ve brought a witch.”

You feel the madame’s gaze rip from Bucky to you. She looks you up and down in one exaggerated sweep, then offers you a somewhat forced smile. She looks as if she is gritting her teeth as she drinks you in. You were left wondering if the madame had some type of unrequited infatuation with Bucky. Many of the women of Sootstone seemed to share such an attitude, especially if they did not have the wit to sense the danger attached to the handsome gangster. 

“She’s a bit too pretty for this business, don’t you think? I suppose all those witch women are a bit pretty. It’s usually glamours though, isn’t it?” There is an underlying spite to her tone as she assesses you, arms coming to fold over her chest. Her bosom is exaggerated, and her waistline is pulled pencil-thin by her corset. You are surprised the woman can breathe. “Well, are you wearin’ a glamour, girl?”

You hadn’t realised the madame was questioning you; actually, you found yourself rather overwhelmed by the whole display. Your lips part as you struggle to find your tongue and eventually stagger out a confused reply. “What?”

Madame Voss murmurs in annoyance, her arms uncrossed and hands coming to move in spirited gestures as she speaks. Bucky is staring at the ceiling as if bored out of his mind. “A glamour? You can’t tell me you normally look like that, all wide-fuckme-eyed?”

Steve makes a choking noise somewhere beside you while you gape at the madame. “No?”

“Huh.” 

“I work with spirits, not—” You cut yourself off, clearing your throat, and decide it was not worth the argument. “I’ll need some time to walk around ‘n get a feel for things. Maybe talk to some of the girls, if that is alright?”

“Fine by me.” Madame Voss waves you off, attention hastily pulled away as she turns to Bucky. “In the meantime, Mr Barnes, can I get you anythin’? Tea, biscuits… something else? You know my girls will always give you a discount—”

“Somethin’ to drink, perhaps. Somethin’ strong.” Bucky cuts off the Madame and claps Steve on the back. “What do you say, Steve?”

You got the impression that neither Bucky nor Steve liked this Voss woman. 

—

It did not take you long to explore the brothel in its entirety.

The establishment was compact and efficient. Downstairs was made up of the main foyer room, which was extended into a room similar to a drawing room. Tables made up the majority of the space, with playing cards and strong Smog Boys branded liquor decorated around the room. Comfortable furniture and suggestive art lined the walls. Out of view was a kitchen, a washroom, and madame’s office space, which Bucky would occasionally take residence in if dealing with business for the Pony Club. 

Upstairs was dedicated to private spaces, where the girls lived and worked. They were hesitant to speak with you, guarded and quiet. You did not get the sense that they were being abused or held against their will, but rather haunted by whatever spirit clung to the brothel. 

As the Pony Club slowly spiralled due to the haunting, many girls left. Business had grown to a standstill. The girls were plagued with nightmares and anxieties. The few that spoke to you recalled dreams of a dark figure who prowled through the halls, standing at the edges of their vision. At night, they would see the figure in the corners of their room, sitting on the edge of their bed. One girl even claimed the spirit sat upon her chest, that the mass had no face but two sets of shining white teeth that grinned down at her as she struggled to breathe. 

When the girls were not targeted by this mysterious figure, they were afflicted with memories of their past. Dark images would replay before them every time they closed their eyes until they awoke sweating and screaming. 

You bid farewell to an exhausted working girl by the name of Hanna. She sat on the bed, a woven blanket pulled over her shoulders. There was a distant look in her eyes as you quietly pulled the door shut, forcing yourself to inhale a deep breath as you stood on the empty mezzanine. There was an oppressive energy to the building, one that weighed down your chest as if someone were purposely crushing your ribcage. You knew your feelings were exaggerated due to your knowing, but there was certainly something potent enough here that even those with little to no sense could feel it. 

You slowly rotated around the mezzanine in thought, unsure where to begin. Most spirits had an anchor—an item, person, or space—that they bound themselves to. They used it to draw energy, recuperate, and recharge. In rare cases, a spirit might bind to an entire house, causing lesions and pus to drip from the walls. But in your experience, those houses had sat abandoned for years, decades, or even more. The house itself would become sentient, dripping with malice and blinded by rage for those who created it, only to leave it abandoned. That was a festering type of haunting, one of anguish and loneliness, but this… this brothel was active. There had once been clients, and multiple women still lived within its walls. So, where was the anchor? Nothing had screamed out to you; nothing had made bile churn in your stomach or your hair stand up on end—

You froze.

You were a few paces away from the staircase, your mind swimming in thought, and—

A dark mass stood on the top step. 

It watched you.

You couldn't make out the eyes or the shape of any humanoid body part. It just stood there, a black cloud over the staircase. But still, you could feel it watching.

And then it smiled. 

It smiled wide, yet it did not seem to have a jaw. There was no skull, nothing solid within its mass. Several pearly white teeth smiled at you, spiralling into a gaping hole. The pungent smell of decaying meat filled the air as the mist contorted and pulsated in a sickening rhythm while observing you.

Before you could even consider speaking or moving, the mass had swept down the staircase, disappearing from your view. You raced to the bannisters, leaning over as far as you could without launching yourself over the edge. Loose strands of hair danced around your face as you darted your head. You could still not make out the spirit. 

By the time you gathered your skirts and descended the staircase, you found the foyer empty. You could hear the distant trill of Madame Voss's voice deeper within the building, near the kitchen.

There was still that lingering oppression, an uneasiness that squeezed your chest. Regardless of how many times you whirled around, blindly scanning the foyer, you were unable to find a trail where the sensation intensified. 

Clenching your teeth together, you let out a sharp sigh and balled your hands into fists. You paused in one of the corners of the foyer, allowing the blood pumping in your ears to calm and your muscles to relax. You blocked out the distant voices, instead focusing on the hum of the environment. You were frustrated, yes, and maybe a little scared. Not of the spirit, but rather how Bucky might react if you told him that you couldn’t banish this ghost. Not because you were too weak or unaware of how to handle it—you were very much prepared in both areas—but because you couldn’t find it?

You were skilled at finding hidden anchors, but it was difficult to focus when you felt immense pressure on your shoulders alone. You closed your eyes and listened intently. You could feel each speck of dust swirling through the air and hear every small sound the walls and floors made as the wood settled. You could hear each fibre of the rug rustle as you gently tip-toed across the room, following an invisible line.

The string was knotted in a complex pattern, similar to a spiderweb. You could feel it brushing over your skin as you moved, growing taut as it tangled around your body. You pushed through the sensation as if wading into a pool of water, stepping deeper and deeper into its strands as they layered over your skin and clothes.

Then, a tug.

A slight tremor, a warbling as a single line was set alight in your mind. The spider—your ghost—was circling you like prey.

You grasped the string, following its current blindly through the foyer. You stumbled around furniture, tripping over the edge of a rug and—

The floorboard creaked beneath you.

It wasn’t a typical creak—not one of an old building or a settling house. No. The creak resonated through your mind, deafening you. Your hands rose to your ears, the shrieking growing louder and louder as you fell to your knees, wincing. The fibres of the rug bit into your skin, sending a rush of electricity coursing through your veins. Under the rug, the floorboard made a hollow thud, loud enough that your ears were ringing from the volume. 

You gasped in a breath, violently ripping yourself from your secondary state until you crashed back to reality. Panting, you found yourself crouched over the rug, fingernails dug into the fabric as you wheezed and panted. A cold sweat covered your body, your head aching as you tried to roll the discomfort from your shoulders. 

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with your witch, Mr Barnes.” Madame Voss spoke in a sing-song fashion as she entered the foyer, a condescending look in her eyes as she stared down at you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, forcing your wobbling legs to rise. 

“It’s underneath,” was all you were able to reply, your voice raspy as you stalked to the corner of the rug.

"Ominous," the madame retorted, her brows arched. Her gaze cast back to the two gangsters who watched from the entrance to the room. There was a curiosity in their stare, hands tucked in their pockets as you worked. You gripped the corner of the rug, peeling it away from the floor. Underneath, everything looked perfectly in order, with well-polished hardwood panels lined up in unison. Carefully, you walked the length, tapping your shoe on each floorboard.

“Well, you do know what they say… with magic comes madness!” Voss announced with a sly grin, her hands moving to flourish her words. Bucky cocked his head to the side, emitting a sharp exhale through his flared nostrils. 

"Let her work," he spoke up, and the tension in the room mounted. The madame's disapproving scowl only added to the oppressive atmosphere. The room fell into an almost palpable silence, broken only by the sound of your tapping as you methodically sought out the hollow board once more. You could sense the growing impatience of the group as you painstakingly worked, with each floorboard sounding as solid as the next. 

Just as Bucky appeared poised to call off your efforts, the floorboard beneath you emitted a hollow thud that reverberated through the space below. You tapped again, feeling the same hollow thudding from the adjacent boards. Looking up at Bucky, you gestured toward the floor, affirming, “It’s underneath.” 

Madame Voss gaped in astonishment at you and then turned her incredulous gaze towards the two gangsters. “Underneath? Underneath! This must be some kind of magical trick—in all my years working in this establishment, I have never heard of a basement or cellar!”

As Bucky waved at the woman, he made a disdainful noise in dismissal. The madame fluffed up, muttering under her breath in flustered embarrassment, and then stalked away a few paces. Bucky and Steve soon joined you, watching intently as you blindly felt around the edges of the wooden panels. As you investigated, your fingertips discovered finely carved grooves hidden within the wood—imperceptible to the casual observer but discernible to those who sought them out. The edges of the indents provided a perfect grip for you to dig your nails into the wood, allowing you to pry the board from the floor with little effort.

The three of you peered into the space below through the thin gap. It was pitch black, but you could make out some rickety stairs descending into the inky dark. A thick layer of dust sat upon the steps, a musty smell hitting your nose. 

You sat back on your haunches, peering closely at the board you had just managed to pry up. The wood was marred with deep gouges as if some kind of wild animal had relentlessly scratched and clawed at the panel. As you tentatively ran your finger across the rough and battered surface, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, sending a sickly shudder up your spine.

“Did you know this was here?” Steve mutters to Bucky from somewhere above you. 

You continued peeling up each of the loose boards, using the indents to grip the wood with your nails. The disgusting, nauseating feeling intensified as it became apparent that every panel had identical deep gouges carved into the wood.

“No,” Bucky replies, his voice hushed. 

When the hole is completely visible, you sink onto your knees. Now that light was flowing in, you could see more clearly. The dusty, ancient stairs descend to a stone floor. The stone appeared dry but extremely dusty. What appeared to be large, old wooden barrels and the beginnings of shelving against the walls were visible in the beam of light. You peer up at Bucky and Steve, who tower over you, and resist the urge to squirm as Bucky meets your gaze. 

“This is the anchor.” You explain, and Steve’s face twists, perplexed. 

“The pub—?”

“No. Spirits they… they bind themselves to something. An object, a person, a room. This is where the haunting originates.” You clarify and gradually rise to your feet, taking care not to collide with either of the men. 

You take a hesitant step down, the stair beneath groaning under your weight. You swallow hard, then spin in place to look back up at the gangsters who watch you expectantly. “I might need a candle.”

Without glancing back, Bucky clicks his finger at Madame Voss, who is attempting to peer into the mysterious room from her perch. “Voss. Candle.”

The madam, clearly exasperated, lets out a loud huff before turning on her heel and disappearing into one of the adjacent rooms. There is still a distinct taste of tension in the air.

“Looks like your old man's been a naughty boy.” Steve teases, a boyish smile emerging. Bucky remains silent, choosing not to dignify the gangster's comment with a reply. Their dynamic left you contemplating the depth of their relationship, especially since you had heard that Barnes was not particularly kind to those who mentioned his father. While Bucky's gaze remained blank and unmoving, you couldn't help but notice a subtle twitch in his jaw, betraying a suppressed reaction.

The Smog Boys were infamous for their cruelty towards their enemies, anyone who crossed them, and those who betrayed their trust. Bucky, in particular, was known for his ruthless approach to dealing with anyone who stood in his way. He carried out his actions silently and brutally, and by the next morning, everyone in The Warrens knew that Barnes had spilt blood. Despite the fear he instilled in others, Bucky remained calm and collected. He was a strategic thinker and planner, and he took pleasure in the sadistic ways his plans unfolded. Despite his fearsome reputation, he was still not as notorious as his father. 

His father exhibited a striking lack of cunning, care, or thoughtfulness in his approach. The Warrens endured a dreadful existence as George Barnes succumbed to alcohol-induced rampages. He embodied sheer strength, a fierce warrior whose white-hot rage could melt the most hardened of hoarfrosts. He instilled fear without cause, displaying psychopathic tendencies and craving notoriety through any means necessary. He bolstered the Smog Boys fostering terror through street attacks, gang wars, or burning entire buildings down as a message. Upon Bucky's ascension, the business adopted a quieter and more devious approach. Bucky was all about making money in a quick, quiet, and dirty way. His enemies didn't fear him because they knew what he was capable of, but rather because they never knew, and Bucky knew how to up the ante each time.

Around seven years ago, George had been arrested. He had been too loud and confident in his approach, and the coppers had snagged him. Bucky ran the business for his father, and the Smog Boys boomed with success. His father was set to go on trial, and it wasn’t an unknown fact that the judge had paid off. George Barnes was set to walk free and take over the business again. 

Two days before the trial, he was discovered dead in his cell, his body bearing the marks of a brutal, mysterious beating. There was no trace of evidence to scrutinise, and the guards remained silent, neither admitting guilt nor pointing fingers. The law turned a blind eye to the demise of a notorious criminal under their watch, and the incident was quickly swept under the rug, forgotten within hours. Bucky vehemently denied any involvement. He put on a public display of mourning, cursing the authorities and vowing vengeance, though his threats never materialized. It's also worth noting that Bucky shared a particularly close bond with his mother, Winnifred, who herself was not spared from the brutality of her husband. It was common knowledge that, behind closed doors, Winnifred, Bucky, and his younger sister Becca endured all manner of cruelty at the fists of George Barnes.

Years had passed since those fateful events, and Bucky's ascension to power remained unquestioned. No one dared challenge his authority, fearing both the brutal consequences and because The Warrens had silently celebrated in the wake of Senior Barnes' untimely demise.

The sound of Madame Voss' heels clicking against the hardwood floor signalled her return. You took the candle gratefully, eager to escape the awkward tension, and descended into the gloom.

The old wood stairs protest with every step, emitting squeaks and groans under your weight. Your sweeping skirts brush a fine layer of dust into the air, shimmering in the weak candlelight that struggles to pierce the shadows of the small, dimly lit room. You could only describe the space as a cellar, with its stone walls and floors exuding an eerie, uncomfortable atmosphere. Thick metal bolts secure wooden shelves laden with countless large glass bottles, while large barrels, shrouded in heavy blankets of dust, crowd the square room. In the dim corners, dense cobwebs collect. A place long forgotten.

Bucky and Steve carefully made their way down the creaky stairs as you delicately balanced the flickering candle on the edge of one of the dusty barrels. As you wipe away the accumulated grime, you uncover a label imprinted on the lid:  Property of SMOG BOYS—George Barnes. You squinted at the words in the low light, moving to the next as you tried to understand what was in these barrels. 

Behind you, Steve had grabbed hold of one of the large glass bottles and uncorked it with a sharp pop! He raised it to his nose, took a sniff, and then emitted a loud holler. "Shit, Buck. This is moonshine."

Bucky let out a grumbling noise of recognition, inspecting one of the barrels. “It must’ve been a storage space from the distillery. These barrels look like whiskey.” 

The two gangsters gathered near the barrels, muttering between themselves. 

“You sure he never mentioned this to you?”

“I’m sure. Don’t know why he was so determined to hide a bit of liquor. We have plenty of warehouses for this—”

You rounded the barrels, venturing deeper into the room. A row of shelves faced the centre of the room, with a narrow space between them that you could slip through. The candlelight barely reached the other side, obscured by the layers of barrels and bottles. You blindly stumbled into the empty space, feeling a familiar, thrumming sensation.

Invisible strings tangled at your ankles as you pushed deeper into the darkness, the warm flicker of candlelight barely illuminating what lay within. There, in the centre of the room, stood a solitary chair—a simple wooden chair. The thrumming grew louder, your heart pulsating as you gaped down at it. Thick sailor ropes coiled tightly around each arm and leg, faded remnants of blood splattered across the cold stone floor beneath. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to close in around you, the air heavy with a sense of foreboding—

You jumped out of your skin as a hand rested on your shoulder. Bucky had followed you through the shelves. His eyes mirrored the unease that churned in your stomach, his face etched with a deep, troubled frown. You felt urged to speak up and console the man but you knew better than to fall into that trap. His presence was disturbingly comforting as if the dangerous gangster were not the apex predator in the room. All you could do was gape, tearing your vision away from the chair as you stumbled back a few paces. 

As quickly as you had found solace in the man, it was torn away. He stalked toward you, finger pointed as he jabbed it into your sternum. His eyes had glazed over, a thunderous rage taking shape. You sensed it was a defence mechanism, a way to intimidate you because you had seen something you weren’t supposed to—something that shocked even him.

“Not a word. You understand?” he hissed, his large, sculpted frame towering over you. You shrank back, your spine meeting the shelving, causing the moonshine bottles to clink together.

You knew what this place was. A hidden place. A forgotten place. A place where torture and death had been carried out. An echo from the past. A whisper on the wind that spoke the name George Barnes.

This was the kind of business Bucky kept meticulously hidden—a necessary evil shrouded in secrecy. Bodies were found only if he wanted to send a message. You were certain there were countless other hidden, unmarked graves. Bucky was too clever to be undone by a rogue body or misplaced trust. Every action he took was calculated to ensure it could never be traced back to the Smog Boys. Of course, everyone knew it was them, but legally proving their involvement was another matter. Despite the gang's reputation for being untouchable, the coppers constantly searched for any loophole to bring them down. Bucky's entire operation could unravel if the wrong person discovered incriminating evidence.

For all your understanding, The Pony Club was one of the few legitimate businesses under the Barnes name. If an enemy of the Smog Boys discovered a way to link this grim scene to the underground crime network Bucky managed? It could spell disaster. 

“Do you understand?” Bucky repeated, his voice dripping with venom. This was a side of him you had heard rumours of but had never witnessed yourself. This was the leader of the Smog Boys. This was the Bucky that made Sootstone cower.

You swallowed hard, nodding as you huddled against the shelves.

The gangster ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You could sense the conflict in his eyes as they darted between you and the chair. After rubbing his chin and jaw, he finally settled on resting a hand on your shoulder again, an oddly tender touch. His head dipped, and he muttered in your ear, “I need this ghost gone. Now, doll. I think it's best no one else sees my father’s handiwork.”

“I can—I can do that,” you stammered. The gangster gave you a slow nod, exhaled sharply, and then turned on his heels.

In the sudden emptiness, the thrumming in your ears became deafening, a relentless pulse that drowned out all other sounds. Your ears rang with a piercing intensity, and your breath quickened, coming in short, ragged gasps. The room seemed to close in around you, now suffocatingly tight. The walls pressed inward, and the air grew thick and heavy as if it were pushing against your chest. You felt an overwhelming sense of dread creeping into your bones, a cold, insidious fear that wrapped itself around your heart. Somewhere in the background of it all, Steve yelped. 

At first, you could not hear his distress, not over the noise in your head. It was only as Bucky paused by the narrow opening between the shelves, his eyes snapping to yours, that you heard Steve again—frantic shouts piercing through the deafening roar of a fire, overwhelming even the clamour in your head.

You move quicker than Bucky, darting through the shelves back into the candlelight.

Except it wasn’t the candlelight that lit the room in a blinding glow, but instead a figure engulfed in flame. You could make out bludged eyes and an agape mouth through the tendrils, which licked up the figure in a violent blaze. Steve was pinned with his back against one of the barrels as the figure, screaming and writhing, hurtled towards him.  

You hurry forward, positioning yourself between Steve and the burning figure. Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you closer as he shouted, "What the fuck?!"

The fiery figure hesitates, its swollen, bloodshot eyes flitting between Steve and you in confusion. Bucky had pulled what appeared to be a knife from his pocket and was circling the scene. Your brows furrow as you give him a puzzled look and free yourself from Steve's grip. 

“Put it away!” You bark over the roar. Bucky cocks his head to one side, both of you mutually surprised that you had found your voice. As you approach the figure, it retreats, the flames quickly extinguishing. Your ears ring as silence falls. The spirit has transformed into a black mass again, its shape twisting and jittering as it swings its gaze between the three of you. 

“It can read your memories. It feeds off fear and pain.” You explain to the two gangsters, hesitantly stepping forward once more. The spirit centres its eyes solely on you. “It shows you your darkest memories, the ones you've buried. It’s tryna scare you.” 

You do not dwell on whatever memory Steve was plagued by.

The spirit shifted once more, the dark mass disappearing into the shadows. You shallow your breath, quickly scanning the room before turning to Barnes. “The chair is the anchor. The spirit needs to be unbound.”

“And how do you do that?” He asks in reply, nostrils flaring. You step into the centre of the room, peering through the shelves into the dark space. Dread curled in your stomach as your eyes roamed the chair.

“I could destroy it or cleanse it—”

“Where's your mother, girl?” A familiar, slurred voice reverberated through the dimly lit room, sending shivers down your spine. Your entire body tensed, and your heart seemed to clench in your chest as a surge of fear momentarily halted you in your tracks. The acrid scent of alcohol mixed with the pungent odour of sweat hung heavy in the air. The heavy, unsteady footsteps of a large man reverberated over the stone floors.

“She’s sick.” A child's voice replied. Your voice. 

In front of you appeared a vivid scene. Your father, in a state of intoxication, stood before you. His body was angled in such a way that only the profile of his face was visible. His clothing was tattered, and the floors bore marks of mud and filth from his worn boots. His hair was dishevelled and sprinkled with ash, and his flushed face glistened with sweat. Facing him was a much younger version of yourself. You estimated her to be around eight years old, judging by the length of her hair and the ragged dress clinging to her emaciated frame. The child cowered against a door, her limbs trembling in fear.

“Sick? That damn woman is always sick. Get out of the way, girl, I need to speak with my wife.” Your father slurs, lurching forward. The child held steady, her back pressed defiantly against the door. 

“You can’t, she’s sleeping—”

A resounding crack echoed through the room as your father’s palm connected forcefully with her cheek. The impact sent her sprawling to the floor, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she fell. Tears shimmered in her wide, frightened eyes, reflecting the harsh light as they welled up and spilt over her cheeks. The room seems to hold its breath in the aftermath, the sharp sound of the slap lingering. 

“What’s this? Who’s that?” Steve spoke up from beside you. You had almost entirely forgotten that the two men were still in the cellar with you. Bucky watches on with morbid curiosity, but you do notice how the muscles in his jaw tighten. 

“A memory.” You mutter back. You urge your feet to move, but you feel as though you are wading through waist-deep water. 

“Some gall you have to be telling me what I can and can’t do in my own home, girl!” Your father charges through the door, his eyes wild and unseeing as he drunkenly stumbles over your younger self's frail body. Ignoring your cries, he leaves her sprawled on the floor, the door slamming shut with a jarring finality before she can react. Muffled shouting and screaming rise from beyond, chaos that drowns out her sobs. The child curls into a ball on the cold floor, trembling and sobbing as the shrieking grows louder. The walls thud and shake with the force of his rage, each violent sound echoing through the small room, amplifying the terror that grips her small frame.

“You’re not welcome here, spirit,” your voice cuts through the unfolding nightmare with unwavering authority. You can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, but you tilt your head defiantly. Momentarily sucked into the horror of it all, but now you stand unshaken. The scene pauses, and the child freezes in place as the shouting and banging abruptly stop. The spirit seems to contemplate your words, its image flickering before dissolving into a dark fog that settles in a dense layer across the stone floors. 

“I think destroying it would be easiest.” You mumble to the gangsters. Bucky’s lips were set in a fine line, his jaw still clenched, while Steve eyed you warily. “Burning it would be the best way.”

As if in response to your comment, the room burst to life once more. The two men stand on either side of you as if their curiosity is too much to dismiss as they realise it is another of your memories. 

This time, the version of you was older. A teenager. She perched on the edge of the docks, her legs dangling into the waters below. Next to her sits a boy roughly the same age. The two of them laugh and indulge in a shared bag of colourful, sugary treats.

“My dad keeps askin’ after you.” The boy says. Michael. Your gut twists. You knew what was to come. 

“I’m not joinin’ your dad’s weird cult.” She giggles, popping a boiled sweet into her mouth with a lopsided grin. Her hair was loose, uncaring as the breeze tangled it and ash fell from the skies. 

“He keeps goin’ on about how you’re some saviour—”

“Ew.” She replies, nose scrunching. The teen leans back on her palms with a sigh, looking across the docks. “You know me and my mum aren’t interested in that stuff. I’m not desperate like those other witches he tricks into joining. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve held on this long, you’re what? Seventeen? Why don’t you just get a job in one of the factories and get the hell out of there?”

Michael appears displeased by her response. You had never previously noticed, despite replaying the memory in your mind numerous times. In the past, you believed you were being helpful, perhaps even clever. You could see the wrinkle of discomfort in the boy’s face now. You knew all too well that breaking free from his father's control was never as easy as moving out. You had been naive to believe that. Michael had not called you a fool, which was probably a small act of kindness on his part.  

“How’s your mum?” He asks, gaze cast to the side to look at the teen’s profile. She shrugs, sucking on the sweet in thought. 

“Still sick. We saw that healer in the Smokestacks, said he might be able to do somethin’ about it.”

“You know my family could help—”

The teen gives him an irritated look. “You know my mum doesn’t want your help. She doesn’t even want me hangin’ out with you.”

The tranquillity of the scene had captivated you to the point where you lost awareness of your surroundings. It was only the looming sense of dread for what was about to unfold, the feeling of Bucky's sleeve brushing against your arm, and the audible, sharp intake of breath from Steve that jolted you back to reality.

“Oi! Lookie here! It’s—” The shout of a copper was warbled as you strode forward, the memory rippling like a pool of water. 

You had to prevent what was about to happen. You couldn't let Bucky see how everything truly unfolded. You knew you should have stopped it before it went this far. You shouldn't have allowed yourself to get pulled into this memory. Yet, there was a bittersweet comfort in seeing him again, remembering him as he was before everything went so wrong.

“Probably shouldn’t burn it down here. Those barrels catch and this place will explode.” You mutter under your breath, trying to ignore the sickness churning in your stomach as you approach the chair. As you draw closer, your eyes catch the gruesome details etched into the wood. Dark, crusted blood is splattered across the seat, each fleck and smear a silent testament. Streaks of crimson have seeped into the grain, staining the wood in a macabre pattern. The iron tang of old blood hangs in the air, mixing with the musty dampness of the room. Your hair stands on end and your nerves tingle as a shiver runs down your spine. The closer you stand, the more uneasy energy pulses through you. Summoning your courage, you grip one of the chair's arms and yank with all your strength—only to find it bolted firmly to the floor. 

Your stomach drops. 

You needed to get the two men out of this cellar and defeat this spirit yourself. You couldn’t stand their gazes upon you, waiting expectantly. You roll your shoulders, twisting your neck as a tight, itching sensation settles over your skin. You weren’t afraid of the memories, but rather the reaction to them. You didn’t want sympathy. Most of all, you didn’t want to be feared—to be viewed as a weapon. 

You knew that was what the Smog Boys truly desired—a tool to complete their dirty work. 

The memory came to life around you once more, stronger and more vivid. Michael was sprawled on the floor, beaten and bloodied, his face a mess of bruises and cuts. The coppers, young and full of arrogance, stood above him, their laughter echoing in the confined space. They were eager to prove themselves, and they relished every moment of his suffering, laying blow after blow into his broken body. Their cackles filled the room, mingling with the sickening thuds of their fists and boots against his flesh. 

“Let me go!” Your head swivels as you look to the other side of the room. There, the teenage version of you is held back by two men with bruising grips, their hands digging painfully into her arms. Tears streamed down her face, carving glistening tracks through the grime and dust. Her eyes are wide with terror and helpless rage as she struggles and screams, her voice raw and desperate. The men restraining her exchange smirks, their expressions cold and indifferent to her anguish. The room seems to close in around you now, the walls reverberating with the echoes of her cries and the relentless thudding of blows landing on Michael. You were powerless, trapped in a living nightmare.

You needed to stop this—

There was a loud crunch, the agonising sound of bone snapping and shattering under a steel-toe boot. Michael has grown still, his body is no longer convulsing with pain. His face was unrecognisable—a grotesque mask of bruises and blood, the features obliterated by the relentless assault. His skull is misshapen, cracked open against the stone curb, a dark pool of blood is spreading beneath him.

Somewhere in the distance, the past version of you wails, a heart-wrenching sound that seems to come from the depths of her soul.

She was scrambling on her knees over the filthy streets, her body shaking with sobs as she gripped Michael’s lifeless form. Her fingers, trembling and desperate, searched for any sign of life, but you knew now that it was pointless. Michael was dead. He had died the moment they cracked his skull open. Blood smears her hands and clothes as she clings to him, her tears mixing with the grime on the ground.

She shakes his body, begging him to wake up. The coppers continue to snicker amongst themselves. They are unphased by the blood and flesh painted across their boots, their faces twisted in smug satisfaction. 

“That’s enough now.” You spoke up in the present, tone low and warning. The spirit hesitates, and the teen pauses, her body relaxing as the sobbing stops. Her head twists around, her eyes a milky white as she looks directly through you. 

“I know what you are.” The spirit spoke through the memory of you. Her gaze shifted to look at the coppers. Their figures are silent, but their shoulders shake with laughter, an amused indifference as they watch the suffering before them. “Spirit-raiser…diviner…light-bringer.”

Her eyes start to glow, a bright white that blinds the room. You know what is to come. You know what happens next. The shelves and barrels begin to rattle around you, and dust is stirred up into clouds. You could hear Steve swearing somewhere behind. Her sights move to the coppers, a knowing smirk fading into a cruel frown. Her hand raises into the air, fingers moving to snap—

Your hand has subconsciously raised. The ground trembles beneath you. It isn’t from the past; it is present. It was you at this exact moment, touching your fingers together. The ceiling above you groans, bottles of moonshine shattering across the floors as they fall. Behind you, Bucky and Steve yell over the commotion, calling to you. You can feel the crackle of electricity in the air and map every particle that flutters in the air. The chaos rises in your chest as you summon it forward. The crackle of energy grows higher and higher until the tingling sensation meets your fingertips. 

You snap your fingers, and a deafening crack echoes through the cellar. For a moment, everything grows still. Your body begins to glow, emitting a bright white light that fills the room, even stronger than the spirit's light. The intensity of it is blinding, obliterating every detail with a searing brilliance.

The room explodes around you. 

Bits of wood splinter, torn from their fixtures and launched through the air. Barrels explode with a thunderous roar, whiskey gushing out in torrents that splash and pool around your ankles, the potent scent of alcohol overwhelming your senses. The entire room shudders and rocks from the impact, the walls groaning under the strain. You were momentarily assaulted by the barrage of debris—sharp shards of shelving and glass raining down around you. Until Bucky grips you. Amid the chaos, he seizes your waist, pulling you into the shelter of his chest to shield you from the storm. 

Steve has vanished up the stairs, the floorboards above rattling with each of his hurried steps as the earth finally settles. The room falls into an eerie silence, the only sound being the gentle sloshing of liquor around your feet.

There is a large crack in the stone floor where the chair used to be. 

You pull yourself from Bucky’s grip rather unceremoniously, frowning as you pull shredded wood from your hair. The gangster eyes you cautiously, clearing his throat as he retreats backwards. “Are you gonna explain what that was?”

You were unsure what he was specifically referring to—whether it was the haunting memories or the raw power you had just unleashed. Regardless, you didn’t feel up to explaining either. A deep weariness had settled into your bones, your muscles aching from the exertion of channelling such immense energy. A thin trail of blood had begun to leak from your nose, the metallic taste of copper lingering as you absentmindedly licked your bottom lip in thought. 

You should not have done that. But they would have found out either way. 

Your fingers instinctively came up to rub your temple as you let out a sharp sigh of annoyance. With magic weariness came a tinge of irritation and snarkiness—it was a familiar companion after such displays of power. At that moment, you couldn't summon the will to care about how dangerous Bucky was or how he could ruin your life. All you craved was the simple comfort of lying down and perhaps indulging in a strong drink or two to ease the embarrassment of the situation.

Above, Madame Voss's shrill shrieks pierce through the ceiling, amplifying the headache pounding behind your skull. You knew the entire row of buildings would have felt the surge of energy you had just unleashed. One could only hope that the coppers wouldn’t investigate too closely into the disturbance.

Ignoring his previous question, you speak up. “You should invest in gettin’ your buildings properly cleansed.” 

Maybe that would make him and his men shut up about your faulty locks.

You go to walk away, but Bucky's firm grip on your forearm halts your movement, holding you back. His head cocks as he looks you up and down, his eyes sharp and calculating. “I don’t know much about magic, but I know witches don’t just summon shit like that out of thin air.”

If you were one of his dogs, your hackles would have raised, teeth bared. You look him down defiantly with a scowl. “Respectfully, Barnes, you don’t know shit about magic. I keep your secrets; you keep mine. That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

His lips curl into an astonished smirk, pleased as equally as he was stunned by your tone. His head dips down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low murmur. “You know, doll, if you weren’t growing on me, I would have you killed for speaking to me like that.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath tickling against your skin, his proximity stirring a mix of emotions within you—wariness, curiosity, and a hint of something deeper that you couldn't quite define. You knew better than to let the boundaries between you blur. You give him a mocking pout, wrenching your arm from his grip. “I know you won’t kill me, if you wanted to kill me, I would be dead already. You’ve decided I’m valuable, haven’t you? Who would break your curses and scare away the skeletons in your closet? You must know that I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t want to help you, we’re not friends.” 

His jaw tenses slightly as he processes your words, and his voice is flat as he speaks. “The most valuable thing a woman like you can offer is what’s between your legs. And you gave that up pretty easily.” 

His lips curl into a sneer. “I suppose the magic is a bonus. But I know you’re little more than a whore beneath it all.”

Several emotions flicker through your chest. Pain, frustration, disillusionment. You should have known better. You knew better. You don’t dignify the gangster with a response, instead turning on your heel to march out of the cellar. 

“I’ll have someone come fetch you when you’re next needed, spirit-raiser,” he calls after you, his tone mocking. 

You ascend the stairs without looking back.

PART THREE

[verycharismaticdragon]

@mandlien: Op where is the essay 👀 @latitudeoctopus: An essay I would like to see 🙏

Glad u asked! <-guy who was totally angling for someone to ask

OG post this continues from, for those just tuning in now:

actually SQQ's first encounter with LQG perfectly illustrates which of SY's idiosyncrasies perfectly converged to make him absolutely obsessed with Binghe, in this essay i will

So, to start with, the explanation for why I think this scene in particular is more illuminating than all of SQQ's interactions with actual LBH. 

That's because there's not a single scene in the novel where his interactions with LBH-the-person are not colored by pre-existing bias of already being obsessed with LBH-the-character. Like, consider the scene where he appraises Shen Qingqiu's looks, and finishes it off with:

He still couldn’t compare to Luo Binghe. (vol.1, ch.1)

despite not having seen Luo Binghe in person yet. But no, he's already convinced his beloved blorbo is of course The Handsomest Ever!

Simply speaking, we never encounter Shen Yuan pre-Binghe Syndrome (when instead of brain there's binghe). So it's difficult to tell whether any particular way he thinks or feels in Binghe’s presence is the standard for him, or owed to the fact that he already likes Binghe in at least one way.

But the same can not be said of Liu Qingge: while SY did have some interest in his character, he didn’t really think of him before encountering him in Lingxi Caves. Plus, unlike Binghe who seems to have fully aligned with SQQ’s expectations of him, LQG had given him a little shock — which prompted some re-evaluation of his prev thoughts on SQQ's part.

(cont. under cut)

Now is a good time to mention that I arrived at thinking about this scene while considering Shen Yuan's relationship with toxic masculinity — and remembering I jotted down 'Shen Yuan's fascination with masculinity' in my reread notes for this scene.

[Bai Zhan Peak] was the most warlike of Cang Qiong Mountain's branches, as well as the branch with the greatest martial ability. Every single generation's Bai Zhan Peak Lord was a world-class swordmaster, a victor of countless battles, an undefeated legend. How hot-blooded—how dashing!  Male readers always fervently admired strong characters. Even though Liu Qingge never officially debuted on page, he hadn't lacked for fans, and Shen Yuan had been especially fascinated with him. In his headcanon, Liu Qingge had been a sharp and manly man, powerful and magnificent. A war god, right?! (vol.1, ch.2)

So, Shen Yuan’s fascination with Liu Qingge’s character — or rather his headcanon version of it — is about Liu Qingge being someone who (in SY’s mind) embodies masculine qualities. And what qualities are those? From this section, being “strong” (has to be physically powerful) and “undefeated” (can’t be a loser) — yeah, pretty standard toxic masc starting kit. 

And something of interest here: though SQQ describes it mostly as his own feelings, even in this excerpt, he slips in a “male readers always [...] admired” — which, when considering everything else we know about his relationship to masculinity, kind of gives off an insecurity vibe. He seems to be either trying to justify his own feelings (i.e., ‘other men feel the same way, i’m in-group not out-group, i’m not failing at being a man by feeling this way [admiring another man]’), or else emulating other male fans and trying to convince himself he relates to the story the same way they do (i.e., ‘male readers admire strong characters and im a man therefore i definitely also admire the same things’).

Speaking of emulating other male fans, there’s another quality that SY seems to associate with masculinity, this one not very related to Liu Qingge — though SQQ does make a mental detour into it in the same scene, when talking about other Peaks.

Yeah, when he mentions Xian Shu, and the fact that the popularity of self-insert erotic/lewd fics about Xian Shu "compared to that of the original work” in PIDW fandom, or possibly even in general on ‘Zhongdian’ (since afaik you can publish fanfiction on Chinese webnovel sites alongside original works, you just have to tag it as such). In other words, among male fans. 

But we know SY doesn’t like sex scenes, right? Hell, his favorite wife is Liu Mingyan at least in part because she doesn’t have sex scenes:

There was one more appeal factor. Liu Mingyan was the only female character for whom Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky didn't write detailed sex scenes. (vol.1, ch.2)

Of course… that’s what SQQ says in his head where nobody can hear him. We actually have evidence of him singing a different tune when among other fans:

Most of the female protagonists are stupid sexy lamps, and the male lead doesn't even bed Liu Mingyan, the only breath of fresh air? He doesn't bed the rightful empress? Are you fucking kidding me? (vol.4, ch.26, part 1)

(speaking of, this is why ‘peerless cucumber is SY’s true self’ takes baffle me. his toxicmascsona is his true self, really?)

So SY has another qualifier for ‘manly man’ in his head: being sexual (of course, in a straight way). Which is not something that comes naturally to him, as evidenced by him cringing away from any actual action even when he tries to emulate the thought pattern, e.g.:

Qi Qingqi? She was indeed slightly junior to him, and their first meeting...he'd long forgotten how it went. "Often together" wasn't quite right, though. Perhaps he at times dared to think about going to Xian Shu Peak so they could be "often together," but while he had the wicked intentions, he lacked the courage required to follow through—and he could never commit an act as depraved as stalking. (vol.4, ch.23) 

Riiiight, SQQ, you totally have those 'wicked intentions' that you merely can't follow through on because you just invented reasons not to.

But that does give us an image of SY’s ideal of masculinity. Extremely powerful, undefeatable, and hypersexual… yeah no points for guessing who. I’m pretty sure SQQ even directly equates Bing-ge with masculinity somewhere, I just can’t remember the exact spot. And he also believes that any man should definitely want to be in Bing-ge’s place, like for example here:

Every man dreamed of being caught between an angel and a devil. To watch them jealously vie with each other over him one moment, then risk life and limb for his sake in the next—that was the highest, most sacred, perverted fantasy of every male organism.  (vol.1, ch.2)

…though I must note, once again, “every man”, “every male organism” — but does SQQ actually feel the same way? I think that the answer is he thinks that he should, and is trying to convince himself that he does.

Which must be difficult considering he finds men more attractive than women, returning back to that scene with Liu Qingge.

In any other state, Shen Qingqiu might have declared, "What a beautiful man!" (vol.1, ch.2)

Really bestie? You would've declared it? Because I don't see you show the same enthusiasm about women. In fact, you usually jump right into how they were described in the novel, as if you don't have your own opinion. 

Now, I must note that I personally don’t think finding someone attractive equals actually being attracted to them. But this does imply which way SQQ's tastes veer. In fact, we can even see that he has a type. First, he describes LQG's face as "as beautiful as a fine woman's"; then adds:

This was clearly the face of a charming young master who arranged flowers and plucked farewell willow branches! (vol.1, ch.2)

Of course, if we are talking about charming young masters with feminine looks, their bearing that of a classic Chinese gentleman (warrior-scholar ideal who’d ‘pluck farewell willow branches’)...

That firm yet humble countenance, demonstrating his noble and unyielding spirit. That pencil-straight back and stance, evincing a proud core that would rather break than bend! (vol.1, ch.1)

[SQQ] saw a glimpse of the future Luo Binghe's unique grace, that of "eyes like cold stars, a soft and radiant smile, with muted words and quiet laughter." (vol.1, ch.1)

In truth, deep down, Bing-ge's fair and clean pretty-boy type didn't really suit the tastes of "Great Master" Airplane Flying Towards the Sky. He had only assigned this sort of configuration to the protagonist to meet his stallion hardware specifications. The art of growing stallions was grounded in science, and the research was clear: women preferred men who looked cultured, pretty, and even a bit soft and feminine. (vol.4, ch.26, part 2)

…there’s no question who is superlative in SQQ’s heart. To boot, he doesn’t even realize that he’s biased about LBH’s attractiveness, as we can see from Airplane-bro’s musings above. So that’s Cucumber-bro’s type: cultured, pretty, a bit feminine.

See, a fun little discrepancy here: what SQQ sees as a masculine ideal and therefore can admire plainly — again, powerful, undefeatable, and hypersexual, — and what he finds attractive in a man, under all those layers of denial, are two pretty different things.

Liu Qingge, despite his appearance unveiling a side of both to us, doesn’t actually fully embody either type: on the masculinity side, he is missing the hypersexuality, on the attractiveness side, his looks fit but his bearing doesn’t match.

But you know who hits all of SY’s qualifications on both counts?.. yeah, once again no points for guessing, it stars with "Bing" and ends with "ge".

So: the source of Shen Yuan’s obsession with LBH-the-character is the intersection of those two factors. Like you know that old wlw joke “I can’t tell if I wanna be her or date her”? Thats Shen Yuan with Luo Binghe, but, yknow, unconsciously. He admires LBH as an epitome of masculinity, an image of a Perfect Male to strive for; he also very much finds him attractive in a gay way. 

In fact, I would even say that an important component of Binghe brainrot is that he is an acceptable target for admiration. How can SY be accused of being gay over liking a horny stallion novel? So it’s totally normal that he thinks of Binghe a lot, obviously that’s just because he looks up to him! Because Binghe is such a perfect iteration of a male stallion protagonist! Who wouldn’t want to be in his place, thinks Shen Yuan, never ever having imagined being in Binghe’s place even once. Ofc that’s only because Binghe got insane game though! Shen Yuan couldn’t hope to compare. LBH is just so admirable and sexy,, for the wives of course, the wives find him sexy, not Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan is just stating facts— etcetcetc.

Point is, LBH is a man that Shen Yuan can like without shame, because he has a whole bag of above-the-board reasons to prove that he's not liking him the wrong way. A perfect target of convergence for Shen Yuan’s conscious and unconscious thoughts (and desires).

And this is how SY ended up with the years-long hyperfix we see in the beginning of the novel. 

[renranram]

Your stories r so good qigehwjw I keep rereading them when there hasn't been a new one updating, but would like to ask which u can freely ignore.

What if schlatt takes us once again to Japan and we try out a kimono he's either filming her or someone else it's up to you🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 once again have a great day!!

Kimonos

sfw + fluff

this is like the part 2 from the last japan related schlatt one shot i wrote

a/n; HI YANNVI!! IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY WORKS SKSHSHFJ + YOUR IDEA IS SO CUTE OFC I CAN'T JUST IGNORE IT ILY ( PARASOCIALLY )

schlatt and you return again to japan, this time it's just both of you two, no cameras, no nothing

the photo booth pics of you two are still in the back of his phone, showing you off but in a lowkey way, as you two scroll through a small festival in japan you two look around as schlatt pause, approaching a small stand before picking up a small pink cat plush

“ it looks like you “ schlatt smiles as you chuckle, “ do i really? “ you ask, standing next to him as you pat the small plush before gasping, grabbing a large brown bear

“ it looks like you! “ you giggle, as he chuckles back, gently grabbing the bear from out of your hand as he poses with it

you grab out your polaroid, before snapping a photo of him and the bear, “ you're so cute “ you mutter out as schlatt could only pull you for a peck in your cheek

“ i thought we agreed on not bringing any cameras hm? “ he gently caresses your shoulder before you respond, “ i knoww, i just wanted to snap some photos “ you reply, “ preserve the memories you know? “

“ of course you would “ he states, before glancing at the two plushies, “ do you want them? “ he asks

“ uhm.. but what if they're too expensive? “ you ask, he always spoils you without a problem so why would he care now?, “ there's nothing to expensive for me “ schlatt retorts patting your hair as he grabs both of the plushies

respectfully paying for the toys, as he looks at you proudly, holding the bag, “ it's us but if we're plushies “ you added he intertwines his hand with yours, as you two continue to walk around the festival

you two ate traditional foods, looked at shrines and even paid respect for the spirits by lighting up some candles

your polaroid collections started growing and growing with every shot of you two, that was until fans of his spotted you two, both are wearing kimonos as they reluctantly approaches schlatt

“ hi! we're such big fans “ the boy, who looks about 15 and his friend, a girl, who looks older smiles at them as you glance at schlatt, happy that he was recognized, “ hey im glad you like my content “ schlatt replies

the two kids looks at you before gasping, giving him a cheeky smile, schlatt scolds the kids in a playful manner, “ we keep this a secret alright? “ he daps up the kids before the two nod, being a chuckling mess

“ can we take a photo with you? “ the girl asks as schlatt glances at you, looking for permission as you respond with a small nod, stepping away a little as the two kids, pose, and snaps a photo with their idol

schlatt pats both of their shoulders, “ we're so happy to meet you! “ the kids state in unison as they bow in unison too, “ me too, “ schlatt pauses before glancing at their attire, “ hey, before you two go, can i ask where'd you'd get those? “ he asks nicely, pointing at the kimonos

“ oh our parents rented these in a nearby store… like over there! “ the kid points at a shop, who's only a few blocks from where they were

“ alright, thank you “ schlatt gives them a little bow as the kids run away, giggling, schlatt approaches you, noticing you looking in awe at a beautifully decorated shrine while chewing on her dango

“ hi toots “ he greets you again, his hand on your waist as you smile, “ they seem like nice kids “ you commented as schlatt nods in reply, “ i wanna try something with you “ he added as you raise your eyebrow in interest

“ oh? “ you blink as schlatt gently grabs your wrist as he starts pulling you behind him, “ what is it? “ you ask, smiling, “ just something “

you nod in defeat as schlatt and you stop at a kimono shop, you gasp, “ what's this for? “ you ask him, “ wanna try those kimonos with you “ he nudges your shoulder

“ really? “ you squeal, before nodding, as two staffs comes up to you two speaking in japanese but they're generally greeting you in their shop

you two were separated by them as they let you chose the preferred color of your clothing, unironically, you and schlatt chose the same color, light blue

the staffs gently dresses you up with the obis, such as ( obi-age, obi, obi-dome and obi-shime ), they were that kind to even gently put on the tabi on you, even letting you borrow a tradional umbrella and a kinchaku

schlatt of course paid for everything, the staffs calling him handsome and he could only bow and chuckle in response flustered

as you got out of the dressing room, schlatt swore he fell in love again, he smiles, your hair was put up, the staffs cooes at you two as you chuckling, noticing the same color you two wore

“ we're twinning babe “ you approach him as schlatt pulls you by your waist as the staffs squeal like teenage girls

you two chuckle as schlatt pulls out the polaroid before approaching the staff, whispering something at them as they nod, even with the language barrier schlatt just hands them the polaroid before going back to you to pose

“ ah “ you mutter, his hand on your waist, as the two of you pose, after with a small shutter, schlatt bows in gratitude as the staff returns the camera, all smiles, “ uh…you return in… hour “ the staff states, her broken english is very obvious

the two of you continued to walk around the festival even managing to get into a petting zoo, before it was you who was taking photos him and this time it was him taking pictures

it was an adorable sight really, you chuckle, scrunchiour nose as you feed a lamb, another shutter, “ you keep taking pics of me “ you mumbles, fixing your hair

“ it's cause you're adorable toots “ he smiles at you, “ plus, it saves the memories you know… so.. if we do get children in the future we can show them how pretty their mother is “

you blush like a teenage girl, “ awh come on, it is real tho, i want us to have a photo album of us, a photo album dedicated to you, showing how much we love eachother “

“ … you're so cheesy “ you can only comment, as schlatt pecks your cheek, “ it is real tho, i wanna share these memories with them in the future “

-

@.isniffschlatt’ssocks • 7 minutes

AHH OMG SCHLATT WAS SPOTTED IN JAPAN WITH THE SAME GIRL, ANY THOUGHTS??

↳ 427 ⇆ 308 ♡ 592

↳ @.jschlatt • 1 minute

that girl is my gf btw

↳ 799 ⇆ 987 ♡ 1.8k

[ozzgin]

:3 🧋 anon back after idk how long I did try to read clover a while ago and after u recommending it I tried to read it again and actually got to 100 smth chapters but for some reason just dropped it but I'm gonna pick it back up again now fuhdissnsajdjsld I've just been rereading crows and the worst and its like Side stories KUNOU RYUUSHIN, KOUSEI AND SHOUGO THE MEN U R <333 GOOD GOD THE ARMAMENT HAS SUCH FINE MEN!!! Juuzou too I love me some blondes <33 anyway lovee ur recent work btw ehe 💗💗💗💗 ur writing is just so fun to read and is very entertaining!! All of ur ocs r so cool too!! My favs r totally Daitou and Kazuya also ofc the old man yakuza cuz im a WHORE fujsodn AAA anyway so sorry for the long ask its just I'm not good at like showing my appreciation for like this free content u write and draw for us and let us consume tysm!! I hope u continue ur work and have a good day ❤️❤️❤️

Who would've thought that a fellow delinquent enjoyer is going to prefer the criminal OCs? By the way, Daitou and Kazuya are named after WORST characters. 🤫

I'm very glad you've given Clover a chance! It's a tad less delinquent heavy compared to Crows and WORST, which is why it also took me some time to finish it, but I feel like it has more fashionable characters, you know? Takahashi Hiroshi goes for a very 80s-90s style.

I've been wanting to come up with a biker OC for some time, but now I'm wondering if I should just quietly advertise Ryuushin as a character in some sequel romance instead. Big, buff guy at your local gym who tells you he's a professional boxer and used to lead a biker gang in high school. Asks you out for drinks, can't handle alcohol too well. You get to meet his buddies from the old days, like the older Bitou brother, or the younger TFOA members occasionally coming by to pay their respects.

Maybe someday, when my schedule clears up. Until then, I leave you with some pages from the official artbook. Wishing you a great week!

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

deeply enjoy that the novel can also be read as a commentary on the fallacy of information. we have zzs as the main narrator who adds to this nuance by being a former spymaster and leader of a bunch of proficient investigators. hes very intimate with the process of verification of information, and even his vast databank of knowledge and his abilities of filtering and sorting the "true" from the "fake" is tested throughout the novel through many instances and events. its especially interesting because he makes a major mistake, almost from the very start, that he resolves only after a very long time, and only after overcoming personal weaknesses. his personal weakness at recognizing truth vs decept reveals itself in the inability to meet personal events with a human perspective; he is basically functioning like a person with two lives, and most of the time, he at least acts as if he is regarding wkx, suspected master of ghosts, from the professional business grounds of the retired leader of shadows rather than from the perspective of a person with an adventurous life and wishes of his own. in this lies the danger to misinterpret and to refuse to confront what is truly going on. if zzs cant 'find' the "true reason" for the ghost master following his humble retired self, he is going to do his utmost to make up one (on the basis of his personal and professional experience with such situations), instead of considering at least once the admittedly unlikely chance that wkx might like him and is even deeply sincere about him. this doesnt signal anything less but that we, as the reader, should not irrevocably trust even the one person who is in most stories the most trustworthy; the main narrator. instead, we are advised to reserve us the right to doubt and think for ourself, to look critically upon even zzs, which only circles back to the novel's theme of the fallacy of information. it even lends to the novel's dialogue with the human right to form your own opinion and your own thoughts and come to your own conclusions, no matter how much they might diverge from norm or mainstream or traditions, and no matter how tempting it might be not to.

[deusvervewrites]

Genome AU:

I like this au a lot and have been rotating it in my head for a bit now. specifically how the whole clone project gets revealed - in one of the asks, you mention that AFO/the doctor likely aren't actively scheming with it in mind, and given that it was canned approximately 10-15 years ago by the time canon rolls around and only a few clones were kept, the fact that the clone kids are then old enough to possibly be in UA would probably have not occurred to them.

But. while the project may not be on their minds, it most definitely had to have some sort of records of it taking place. the first thought that i had was that maybe the doctor kept notes/records of the process, along with files for specific clones, their "parents," where they were kept, and possibly even when or why they were dropped.

If those files didn't exist, whether due not being made in the first place or being lost/destroyed, there would most likely be suspicious holes in the clone kid's paperwork, or at least an absence of any record of former/possible parents. If i remember correctly, some of the nomu project was done inside/connected to the AFO orphanages - so if that was discovered, and the investigators noticed the link between the UA students who came from them and their lack of early life records, then a DNA test could be ordered and reveal their odd parentage. The whole "clone" thing would be more of a running theory than a definitively proven fact, but oh well.

Okay so im still thinking about this. Basically a continuation from my last ask about this. back to the clone project records - for this reveal to even come about, there would have to be a further investigation into the nomus/the doctor's work specifically, rather than just the broader lov. Im not sure if there were any given dates/approximate timeframes for the nomu project in canon, and i don't know for sure if the doctors work had any appearances in vigilantes that would date the creation of nomus/similar things to being active earlier than in the main series, but from what i can remember about the reaction to the USJ is that nomus and similar don't seem to have been encountered and thus recorded before its appearance at the USJ. (it also doesnt seem like people react to the idea of bioengineered weapons made from the corpses of missing people as like. a main concern and it was kind of brushed off in favor of focusing on shigaraki, which i get that he is far more important in the long run but was the entire task force really like "eh, whatever" about the fucked up frakenstein things???) take this with a grain of salt bc i havent reread this specific part in a while. But in this au, the doctor's work clearly goes back pretty damn far. they were advanced enough to make viable clones from multiple sources of DNA, and while the project was technically a failure, there would have been a lot more research into the mixing of quirks that could be repurposed for the nomu project, which would then have at least 10-15 years before canon to develop, possibly even more if it was running next to the original clone project while the latter was winding down in its last years. So. My thought was that if the project had far more time to develop, then the nomus used in canon would likely be far more powerful by the time the heros catch on to their existence, possibly matching the high-end nomus. Because of this, they'd be even more of a problem than in canon. The investigating heros would then dedicate a second team to focus on the origin of the nomus, eventually clueing them in to its predecessor in the clone project. Okay last ask bc i should sleep. still connected to my previous two but mercifully shorter. my bad for occasionally dropping huge asks onto your blog sometimes i have more thoughts than i thought i had. Anyways i think it would be fucked up if one of the clone kids was put onto the investigation team that dug up the files.

We do know that the Noumu specifically were canonically a recent development because the main antagonist of Vigilantes was the thing AFO tried before moving on to the Noumu project (specifically because of how Vigilantes played out for him), but I'm not sure whether that's the case here. (And, yes, Kurogiri was already around in Vigilantes)

The Noumu being stronger makes sense, considering what I have cooked up with the few clones that AFO kept, and they've also adapted the Noumu technology back to the clones for implanting new Quirks, so it all ties together for Garaki.

Finding records about that makes sense

[evenmoreofadisaster]

A question about Two, I know his "weapon training" is different than One's, since while One was "trained" to be a "leader or a soldier" Two was trained to be "a tool or a support" (Which required deconstructing his individuality more than One), plus all that toxic environment where bad behavior was fostered, there were never any consequences for amoral acts, and basically they were continually compared to each other, One being the "golden child", making Two have a continuous fight with himself for not being "enough", especially about his emotions and passion for science (All this is a summary of my impressions and a little psychoanalysis of Two, and I'm aware that I could be wrong).

But rereading the fic, I got the impression that Two really took a "liking" to Raph, Mikey, and Splinter; I mean, I know perfectly well that his main reason is Draxum, completing the mission, taking the opportunity to be better than One for once at something, and many more mental messes.

But it's clear to me that he really enjoyed the company, the validation (especially from Splinter), and having brothers or "companions" that he didn't have to compete with them or that they were his "superiors", and I got the impression that he secretly wanted to complete the mission because he wanted Mikey and Raph to be in his life, in his project, all together (including One).

Although I admit that it's harder to analyze him because Two is very emotional, but it's RAW emotion and he kicks himself every time he feels something with passion and he shelters himself in logic and the set of rules that Draxum gave him, which doesn't allow him to process his emotions or know himself.

What do you say about this? (If I'm wrong, I'm sorry XD)

for the most part you're spot on! Two considers every outburst of emotion a sort of unforgivable slip, because it just proves that Draxum is right about his impulsivity. So it's a constant conflict between his anger issues and emotional outbursts and his need to remain cool and collected. What's worse is that One tends to do the latter better than he does. His anger issues are a part of him that I really like to explore, since an interesting addition to his canon character, and a cool way to connect him with Raph. So I'm really glad you caught on! Saying he feels a lot of raw emotion is super accurate. A lot of the times he's not sure what to do with it, so he just lashes out.

The point about Two secretly feeling connected with and fond of Raph Mikey and Splinter is an interesting point that I think a lot of readers agree with. I was giggling a little looking at all the comments making similar observations. I think it's a great and interesting observation that would maybe be an emotion deep deep deep DEEP down inside Two. Of course you're welcome to interpret the story how you want but I do have my own thoughts on it :)

(This is a LONG one so im gonna put it under the cut lol)

It got to a point where I started to worry that people were completely misinterpreting what was happening, but in hindsight I think there's some merit to the idea that Two was growing fond of Raph and Mikey.

That being said, I think that what people were seeing as fondness was MOSTLY just fear. Every time Two protected Raph and Mikey or spared them was because Two literally cannot let them die. Two's primary motivation in the story is to be successful for Draxum. First, he did this by trying to alter his and One's DNA (which cost them their arm and heart), and then he did this by trying to capture Raph and Mikey. If their team was complete, they would be more useful, and Draxum would be successful. Draxum made it very clear that they're at limited capability with just One and Two. Two wants more than anything to make Draxum's plan come to fruition, both because he wants to impress Draxum, and because he needs to in order to live; he can't afford to be a liability.

In season 1, Two is convinced that if they dont deliver Raph and Mikey, or worse, they die on his watch, Draxum will scrap Alpha 9 for good and he'll be as good as dead (stripped of his purpose, tossed to the curb and left to fend for himself at best). Yes, Two doesn't have a strong sense of personhood, and regards himself as just an experiment. If the experiment fails, he's done for. So I think the times where it seemed like Two was showing a softer side for Mikey and Raph (i.e. when he jumped off the Nexus roof to save Mikey), was just him doing whatever it takes to preserve the Alpha 9 project. The times he went along with One's antics playing family were only done for the sake of his mission. And he barely did that successfully lol

That lack of a sense of personhood also means he never really saw Raph and Mikey as brothers, and he won't until after the beginning of season 2. This shift in mindset is a really hard one, and is something that takes a really long time for him to come to terms with. Before he can accept his family, he must first change the way he sees himself. I think in a way, this sense of self, while mostly being a response to Draxum's training and home environment, was a sort of shield for Two when One, Draxum, and Two's relationship transitioned from a sort-of family while they were on the run to a scientist--subject relationship when they began to work on the mission. Two understood more than One that they wouldn't get that sense of family again, and adapted accordingly. It was easier to let go of the idea completely instead of try to find shards of it in their new life, like what One does. We can see in season 1 how that goes for him lol. But Two's emotions don't fall in line as easily as his brain, which creates internal conflict and helps fuels his constant anger.

But all of that is to say that Two doesn't really see anyone as family, because he doesn't see himself as a person. I doubt he really saw them as people either, more as runaway experiments living in a game. So when he would keep Raph and Mikey out of harm's way it wasn't because he liked them, it was because they were useful tools he couldn't afford to lose. His existence depended on their return. He didn't have the time or desire to care about them beyond their utility.

I think if Two did take the time to see that he didn't have to compete with Raph and Mikey like he does with One, he may have seen it as a relief, and maybe then he could bond with them, but he was so worried about getting the job done that I don't think he really noticed. If they did succeed in bringing Raph and Mikey back, he would probably get along with them better than he did with One. But I also don't think he'd get any emotional gratification by having them all reunited. He'd just be pleased that they have more warriors.

But I also think that even in season 1, he felt isolated from the others. One had an easier time playing family than Two did. I think they may or may not have had some soft moments where they bonded (I honestly can't remember) , and maybe Two does care for them a little bit, but definitely not more than he cares about his overall purpose. I think he sees their potential and sees value in them that way. But if it came down to leaving with them or Draxum at the end of season 1, he probably would have picked Draxum.

I WILL say that Two definitely got more wrapped up in validation than fondness. There's a fun turn in season 1 where Splinter compliments Two in front of One, and they start to compete for his attention. I don't think either One or Two are FOND of Splinter at this point, but he gave them the thing that they both rarely get, and desperately want. Being a father figure definitely helped the extremity of their reaction, since they'd specifically want such a compliment from Draxum (which is very rare). Any time that Raph or Mikey show them kindness makes them pause, but doesn't garner the same response as approval from Splinter. And even then, they were still pretty suspicious of him. I think they both are the type to receive positive interaction before they return it.

I also want to mention the way Two sees Mikey. While he doesn't particularly feel super fond of Mikey right away, he does sort of admire him and envy him in a way he won't dwell on until after s1. Mikey represents everything that Two isn't; he manages his emotions well, he can express himself artistically with ease, has a glowing personality he is confident in, and freely shows love for his family. Two doesn't even think of himself as a person, and has a very weak self-esteem. There's a scene in Mind Meld where Two gets distracted by Mikey's artwork. It throws him off his mission for a moment as he observes how easily and freely Mikey can express himself and his passions, while Two has to painstakingly manage every outburst to avoid being set aside and scowled at.

I'm rambling a lot sorry LOL

But TLDR, while I think the interpretation that Two was beginning to care for Raph and Mikey isn't wrong (I think the effect was the same in the long run, despite the interpretation), the intention we had while writing it was that he was more worried about saving his own skin and serving the mission than caring for his 'brothers.' The risks he took for Raph and Mikey in season 1 were mostly included to show how he'd sacrifice himself for the mission and contrast his actions with One's.

But in all, I don't want to police anybody's interpretations of what happened because everyone has their own unique thoughts about a story and I think that's wonderful :)

Thanks for the question!

[eldritchamy]

omg i completely forgot about the grand folia hotel. i read it when it came out, it rewired my whole dang brain, and then i moved on. aaaa im gonna go reread it right now even though I've been up all night and need to sleep (there aren't any plants around to stop me from making self-destructive sleep cycle decisions muahaha). thank you for your post about it! also if it's alright to offer a recommendation, Hospitable Takeover on Readonlymind.com was the second ever HDG fanfic and in my opinion greatly informed the tone of the setting in 2021 and 2022. It's also just super cozy and comfy and a perennial favorite of mine ^w^

You're welcome for the brainworms!

I understand completely, I'm not sure WHAT chapter 10 did to me but I think my brain is a torus now. I didn't THINK I had a free use kink (I PROBABLY still don't, at least as a participant), but I didn't think I had a PETPLAY kink either until this fucking universe started turning me inside out a few days ago.

I'm already rereading The Grand Folia Hotel myself because I feel like given the plot there's a lot more to get out of it by reading it through a second time (somehow I didn't realize that Phoebe was basically in a perpetual lesbian bluescreen from the moment she stepped into the garden in chapter 1).

Plus it was just EXTRAORDINARILY HOT and I can't wait to watch Phoebe/Amaranth get broken all over again.

It's a shame the story didn't keep going into the ongoing corruption and implantation past her initial surrender, the characters had such good chemistry with each other that I'm really craving more of them. Would have LOVED a chapter or two (or six) of newly implanted pinnates, especially with how amused Celosia was by the fact that they fucking tricked her into taking them at all. Celosia and Phoebe are fucking perfect for each other.

Her revenge must have been DELICIOUS.

And GOD Becca must have been so fucking smug about it once Phoebe was ACTUALLY a floret. I need to know the teasing that happened once she got her real implant.

This is what I meant in a previous post when I said I was "frothing at the cerebellum" to read it again. I'm going actually insane.

Which, as many new people are I'm sure rapidly learning about me, means it is Once Again Infodump Time, because I suffer from a terminal case of Someone Needs To Shut Me Up With A Kiss disease. (I am also a long sufferer of Capitalizes Letters For Emphasis syndrome.)

I'm like the free use kink of infodumping, a bunch of people seem to have figured out how to make me do it almost on queue, and they do it, because they think it's cute. I don't DENY that it's cute, but god does it seem to cost me a lot of the time that I meant to spend reading about the good little florets.

I CAN'T keep taking an hour to write every goddamn post I make about HDG. WHEN WILL I SLEEP? More importantly, WHEN WILL I FINISH REREADING CHAPTER TWO? It took me four extraneous paragraphs to even mention that the read more continues exactly from the train of thought I left off on an aforementioned four paragraphs ago! God, I need help.

AND Phoebe never even saw herself in a mirror ONCE in the story! I want to know what happened the first time she saw what the Class Gs were doing to her! (Do you think Celosia put her in Doll Mode and made Amaranth pose in front of a mirror and be perfectly still, watching her own blank expression obediently while Celosia and Jazz just relentlessly caressed her with every imaginable affection? Do you think Phoebe's wake up trigger was Amaranth saying "Good dolls know they are deserving of love. I'm a good doll and I am worthy of love"? Do you think, beyond the moment when she accepted she was meant to be broken by Celosia's will, that that was the moment she understood what it meant to be put back together, and it was the moment she truly felt, and for the first time could not deny or run away from, that she was the happiest she'd ever been? Because I DO think that happened. And I need it.)

It even would have been nice to see INDRA further along in her own corruption later on. Altiss seemed like a good influence on her, it was really sweet that she had that nice moment with Phoebe at the end of the Matinee.

I'm STARVING for more of that specific story, it was SO good. (Keysmasht, if you ever see this somehow, how much of my soul do you want for a few more chapters? I'll beg.)

Hell, I might beg for permission to write those chapters MYSELF someday. That story is too good for there to not be more of it.

Anyway.

Thanks for the recommendation! I can't BELIEVE I've never heard of this setting before now, it's extremely my shit (apparently) and I'm loving the discovery of new, interesting content that I can not fucking put down. Judging by the tags on my posts, and a friend on discord, flinging myself headfirst into all of this has inspired a few other little seedlings to follow me into florethood.

Recommendations from people more familiar with the setting and stories are definitely welcome, though I can't promise I'll get to any one particular story soon.

Abscission and Divaricated come up in a lot of recommendations for lore reasons? But I've been putting off some of the longer stories like those and Dog of War because they're HUGE commitments and it's so hard not to consume as many stories as possible.

Except, of course, for the fact that I keep rereading the ones I've already gone through because I like what they did to my brain.

I'm struggling not to make TWO other ones I've already read (the original and Inosculate) the next ones on the list after rereading Grand Folia.

Hospital Takeover sounds like an EXCELLENT recommendation, I LOVE cozy and comfy stuff within a primarily kink setting. I'm SO glad the second one I ever read was A Normal Grocery Run During Which No Domestication Occurs. I adore the way SapphicSounds writes dorkier more nervous Affini, and I'm glad I got to see THAT QUICKLY how much of a tonal range there was in HDG stories.

Sleepy Bitch also sounds cute, so I wanna do that one soon.

Also the reading of any particular one is slow going because unfortunately my brain is absolutely churning with ideas of my own. I'm VERY tempted to do a pinnates one because I'm absolutely HOOKED on that concept in particular. I already know one of their names and I just came up with a great title for the story while ...rather vividly imaging a very intense domming scene.

I do want to read a fair bit more before I try my hand at writing one, though. While I've got enough domme in me to feel like I could do some of the Affini taunting justice (seeing Akash in the first story use almost the exact domming style I go for was... enlightening, to say the least; now I know why I get such good keymashes out of my teasing victims), I want to have a bit more confidence in the world itself first to make sure I get it right.

But it's far from the first time I've considered writing erotica. I definitely have the brainworms for it at the moment.

[beardedjoel]

hiii, i was rereading smother (per usual) and i was thinking about joel's wish for blossom to be pregnant one day, and how so far she seems afraid of that. it's just.... well, seems a stupid question but, why does he want this? given not just how im sure hes traumatised from what happened to sarah but, doesn't he think that making blossom the mother of his children would be sort of, well i don't know how to put this but "in the way" of his dynamic with her? i mean, he has such fatherly ways with blossom, does he want to change that once they have children? would she still call him her daddy in front of their babies? doesn't he think about how he might be too old to even watch them grow up or help her raise them? does it come from a feeling of not wanting her to be alone after he dies, given their age gap? do you think she would ever speak up about her own thoughts of having or not children? would he ever change his mind if she asked him? i just always thought joel's idea of their relationship was just "me and her against it all" and in a "have her all to myself way" too and i have know idea why im thinking so much about this little fact and i hope you don't think im insane for it, it's just i never read, saw or even heard about anything close to their dynamic before and im just beyond fascinated by the characters you've build, and i sort of want to know every detail of their relationship as much as you are willing to offer! so sorry for the long ask, but thank you so much for sharing their story with us, i didn't really saw it coming but they mean the world to me ♡ lov ya bye

yap yap yap 👇

alright shiv, you’ve got me in a bind here agdhdhdh no but this is the byproduct of publishing my story as i go over a very long person of time lol. and over the months my mind moved and changed in regards to where i see details like that going. the core/end of the story has always been planned but along the way i thought that joel would very much like blossom pregnant in the sense of having control over her. he’d have another way to keep her “his” and sort of entrap her. and that man does love the idea of watching her grow his baby because its just a way for him to continue having the upper hand with her and it seemed kind of natural before that he’d be wanting to breed her (and i love a breeding kink 😩). that being said, at that time when he brought it up things were a little more shaky between them so maybe it made sense joel would want to scare her into thinking he was going to get her pregnant one day and have even more reason to keep her there with him forever.

however! over a lot of time and thought, i realized much of what you mentioned about it fitting into their preexisting dynamic. it kind of feels a bit clunky once i really thought it out, especially the sweeter and softer and more fatherly joel got with her. he would likely be scared to have another child! so i’ve got to do the hard thing and admit that honestly that i sort of started changing my mind on them having kids. i wavered a lot with it while thinking through what made the most sense for them.

i don’t want to say too much because this topic will actually be coming into play relatively soon, and so i don’t want to spoil too much of what’s to come! i do have a plan for all of it though because your girl had to do some backtracking/plot hole filling ahhah

ilysm for sending so many thoughtful perspectives and questions, honestly i love it so much that people care enough to think about it this much or send me messages. so thank you!!

[denv2]

Okay. I'll just ramble on by myself again today. There are so many things to say, but I'm bad at English, so I can only talk to myself and use a translator to post it.... (Why doesn't Tumblr have an official translator function. I don't want to compare, but twt(x) has Google Translate, but can't Tumblr have that too. Please play my wish. If it's a global app, let's have a translator) Anyway, I want to see more of Felix's story...

As always, I'm embarrassed to talk about headcanons alone, so I'll continue below. (99% IM!felix chat)(It's long)(chapter 172~ spoiler)

I've been mentioning something consistently... I keep thinking about Felix's backstory, which I'm rereading these days... Last time I read and drew a picture of chapter 181, but... Oh my God, I should've started at 172, but I realized I started in the middle.

In 172, Felix uses a gag to defeat the enemy. I love the description of his ability to use a gag, but what's even more thrilling is his reaction afterward. He spontaneously bursts out laughing in triumph after defeating the enemy through a gag. Then he immediately frowns.

'Too close. It was too close.' < This sentence actually made me pull my hair out...

It really shows how Felix is determined to never go back to being zany again. I love the way he checks himself because he's afraid he's going to turn into a zany person after one gag. I really like that... When I first read the novel, I didn't decide on a favorite and just enjoyed the story itself, but now that I'm reading the details again for the first time in a long time while knowing the whole story, I think there are so many things I forgot. And about the relationship between Felix and zany... There were more mentions than I thought, but I didn't notice this... Yes, in fact, the labyrinth part was so long that I was a little tired when I read that part before, but I didn't remember that a lot of Felix's backstory was solved from Felix's side during the labyrinth part...

I keep getting a little obsessed with Felix's past, Felix and his zany days, but there's a reason. I did fanart until March of this year, then I got a little busy for a while, so I was binge-watching chapters of the novel, and then I read chapters 349 and 350, and I loved them so much that I really fell in love with them, so I came back to drawing Felix after a long time? Chapter 349 is the adoption meeting between Canola and Felix, and I really love this chapter. The reason Boris's adoption was rejected was because Felix was zany (+ other unreliable behaviors), and I actually sympathized with Canola. Felix is a trustworthy protector, sure, but he's not perfect, and I like him more for that... As a side note, I do like Canola (I like her as a 2D character, she's like Noelle's mom from Deltarune lol) Anyway, it was Felix's mention of his inner zany that really opened my eyes to Felix and zany. After that, I thought I should re-read about Felix's past connections from his visions in the labyrinth, and then I grabbed chapter 181 and read it and loved it so much that I started drawing Alex and Kitty... But I should have read it from 172!!! 172 also had some really important Felix and ZANY, GAG references...

And chapter 174... Awww. I'm going to paint a picture of Professor Wilson and Felix's past college relationship... As for Professor Wilson's characterization, I've been paying attention to it because of the cult references, but I've been rethinking that characterization as Felix's benefactor lately, so I'm appreciating that part anew, and it's great. I think I remember there was a side story about Felix and Professor Wilson in college in Inky Extra, but I need to read it again.

And chapter 179!! No why didn't I read chapter 179 again?! I thought I would find Felix's past part in the labyrinth part and read it again, so I clicked on the early and middle chapters of the labyrinth to find Felix and read it, but it was 181. There was 179 before 181, but I should have read it from here 😂.

But actually, it's probably a good thing I read chapter 179 now, because it's based on the Twisted Tales Felix animation. If I had read 179 when I reread chapter 181, I don't think I would have gotten as much detail as I did now, because I hadn't seen Twisted Felix yet! So I guess I found this at the right time... Anyway, I have a lot to say about chapter 179.

After realizing that Felix's former hometown is based on Twisted Tales... I can kind of imagine how he lived in the past, and I like that.

To digress for a second, I recently posted a picture of Felix as a showmanship-esque star in a tailcoat suit, and while I was drawing it, I was thinking that Felix, who is a real-life zany top-tier star, would never wear a suit like that, lol. But! I think he would have worn it at least once, but the normal show would have been a comedy show with gags, witty stand-up comedy and physical comedy, right? But I wanted to draw Felix the star in a suit, with a glow in his eyes... That zany, crazy presence! I tried to capture that in my own expression. And since Star Felix is Felix from the past, I wanted him to be a little younger than he is now... The hairstyle is also a little different from the current Felix I'm drawing now! The current Adventurer Felix has more wild hair and is a little unkempt, whereas the Star Felix I drew this time is very well-groomed for showmanship and has a slicked back hairdo.

Let's go back to 179 again. The first line that stood out to me was when Felix's friend asks, "You're not homeless again, are you?

Later on, Felix and Bendy meet up and Felix is telling Bendy about his past, and I think it's mentioned that after Alex, Felix's show fortunes started to change, and he was living an unstable life where he was doing well, and then all of a sudden he was homeless, and then he was doing well again, and then he was going back and forth like that. I think that's the fun part of the subtext, because you read the subtext first, you can see what the earlier reference is actually for.

Then there's Sheba... Actually, what I've been thinking about Sheba and what I drew with Alex and Kitty last time and what I drew after watching Twisted Tales... The character interpretations are mixed now. I drew Sheba last time, but I think I need to change the character design...! I want her to have more of a Twisted Tales feel to her. I feel like I need to do more characterization for Sheba, especially after seeing the scene where Felix's friends don't understand that he doesn't want to be zany, except for Sheba... I need to get her in line... I love Felix and Sheba's friendship in the original comic, but I need to re-read the parts where it's mentioned about their friendship in IM.

And about Candy, I'm actually really interested in Felix's past relationships with girls... Seriously, why is Felix so popular? lol I love it... I love that his past is so colorful... Candy, Nastassia... and Kitty (oh my god. I have so much to say about Kitty).

Okay, let's move on to 181. If I have something else to say about 179 later, I'll say it then. I'm going to say 181 again because it's Kitty...

One of Alex's lines to Felix is this: "Kitty was the last steady girl you had, right?" < Alex's provocation level is... Crazy... (in a positive way). I can't stop thinking about this. About Felix's stable attachment to a relationship.... He's been living alone ever since he left town... I don't think he was even interested in a relationship, because it ended so tragically.... Then one day he meets a rabbit...(Oh my god, but this isn't about Osix, so maybe later...)

I'm so curious about the end of Felix and Kitty's tragic past relationship... What the hell did Alex do? I've imagined some really horrible things, and I honestly don't think it's that bad, but what the hell made Kitty apologize to Felix and Felix turn away and avoid her? What the hell happened?"....

Awww... Felix and Kitty... I'm sure they were a great match before the tragedy... But... But now that they've been torn apart... I love this tragedy... I'm sorry Felix, but I really like ex relationships... because they're ex...

By the way, about Kitty's appearance, last time I drew her with ring earrings, I realized I should change the design to round earrings. I've got two pairs of Felix and Kitty and Oswald and Ortensia scheduled... so it's one of the things I'll definitely do. I'll probably change the earrings to be round then.

Now about Alex. There is so, so much to say about him...... I really love this dislike between Felix and Alex because it feels so good that the people they hate so much are cousins, blood relatives.

Cousins... I think this is more of a fear for Felix. If it were anyone else, he could just end the relationship cleanly. But I think the fact that they are family is more frightening... That's what I like so much. Felix hates and loathes Alex with all his heart. But Alex's attitude in the labyrinth is a little different from Felix's, isn't it? Felix is really hating him, but Alex is provoking him by raising him up... That's also very nice.

I love every single one of Alex's lines, it's so flavorful. I like villainous characters like Alex, but the reason why Alex is especially good is because it's a personalized antagonistic relationship with Felix that completely provokes Felix. He's so good at provoking...

I love the way Alex calls Kitty: 'beaut', 'kit', 'honey doll'... It's so sweet. It's so poisonous... And the things he says to Felix, it's so disturbing. He's so crazy.

'Long time no see, Feels', 'C'mon Feels, nothing to say to me? I've missed you!'(heck, this is soooo crazy.......), 'Still mad?', 'That's cute, Feels.'(noooooooo this is so insane....... alex..... love his poisoned words...), 'dear cousin?', 'cousin'

I love the way Alex says this... He's really provoking Felix with every line... I love how felix refers to alex as just 'Alex' but alex emphasizes the word 'cousin'. See why I said they have a better relationship because they're cousins? By referring to him as a cousin, he's subtly telling Felix that you're not really gone when you leave, that you're not really gone as long as you have the same blood in your veins. I think 'cousin' encompasses both mocking and taunting him for running away, but also letting him know that he's not really gone when he runs away.

But here's my question. When Alex mentions Felix's magic bag, he says it's supposed to be mine. Huh... I'm really curious about the past...

And then there's Alex's Felix costume... Seriously, I love this gimmick, it's a tradition, right? Alex mentions that it's the first time he's done it in a long time, and I wonder if there was an incident in the past where this costume caused a huge rift between Felix and the people around him. And... About Kitty... I can't get this thought out of my head. I'm sure it's because of Alex's appearance in the original Felix classic comics.... Yeah, right....... Oh, I'm thinking the worst again. I'm done here....

I find Felix's past parts so interesting and funny and I think about them a lot, but that's probably more because I like IM Felix.

I also realize that this whole past part isn't really real, it's just Labyrinth's hallucination. I think the real Alex and the real Kitty might react differently, but I honestly think Alex would be the same as Labyrinth lol. Considering the way Alex talks in the other books, yes. He really does have a mouth full of venom (which I love).

That was a really long rant... It's all running around in my head and I have nowhere to put it... I wanted to rant like this in my own personal space. I hope if anyone reads this far, they enjoyed it... Please someone talk to me about Felix🥺